We ate the taste of rotting cow manure
and smiled so wide as to expose our teeth –
mine had coffee stains from too much labor
and yours were filled with gentle glows.
Glass bottles were emasculated in a large plastic can.
We let them know
we let them know that they would
no longer be a part of our lives – we let them know.
And a soul, wandering about, needed help leaving his house,
so we gripped his quivering hands and pulled him through the glass.
Looking at our unshaven faces, he lay there, bloodied on the street.
His claret lead him to revelry and we spoke softly of his absence.
We had to wish each other a happy birthday. We had to. It would be decades before we were born.