I walk through the neighborhood
picking at the bones of our friendship
wallowing in our past trails
searching for the tender meat that once was ours

At times, this place is a graveyard.
But the memories of you and I
have not long been buried,
the earth covering our treasured moments
is still moist and fertile

What if we dig?
Can we uncover where things went wrong
and breathe life into us again?
You won’t need a shovel
I’ll use my hands-
penance for my part in the demise.

The smell of hops lingers here
makes me smile,
mixes with the taste of malt
so divine.
Shared laughs, quiet tears
marching our way through the
misty ravine floor,
across dusty pub tiles,
to cold dry concrete.
All in search of
amity’s sweet balanced flavor.

Our luminescence existed
and I still search for it in every corner
of our beloved city.