January 2, 2012

by Gary Percesepe

You turned sixty today.

The last three years passed to ash

from lavender.


And you were beautiful

in the shade of the pine trees

where we left you.


You always complained that Christmas

ruined your birthday,



But where are you, really?

Do you have your own house, now?

It snowed here today.


I met a woman, does that surprise you?

You'd like her,

you'd like the way she loves me.


But I understand how gypped you felt.

Fifty-seven times!

But where is that boy

who waited for you to get out of

the bathroom while you put on

your makeup?


I was always a little behind you

but I'm

moving faster now.