You know I remember still
the Lonely Tree you took me to see,
but the fatigue from climbing its hill
I note much more from the day.
so proud of its isolation,
in some romantic kind of way;
how it was
poised so calmly above everything.
But I don’t remember you and me.
I don’t remember if I was really
all that exhausting and defiant,
if I raised your good nature unfairly,
or if that meant I was undermining you
You were always so easy to get along with,
so strong and true,
and even. To put it another way;
so fucking, goddamned distant.
And when I think of it like that
it is precious easy to recall how
you, I and the afternoon sat
where the Lonely Tree took root.