An Ode

after passing a sidewalk guitar player out in the cold, he went in the bookstore, bought a hot chocolate from the cafe, and gave it to the chilled man with a handshake and a smile.

he yells at me to “not touch that door!!” so that he can open it for me.

offering his arm, he guides me to my car door over the ice – aware of my wobbliness in heels on the uneven ground.

he enjoys our indian dinner out so much, he proclaims that he will write them a letter of appreciation and cc the food section of the kansas city star.

he bends his head to consult with me over the crosswords, asking for help even when he doesn’t really need it; we work on them together over brunch, quietly being together before subsequently enjoying a trip through a bookstore.

i miss him.


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