rising waters

i see you go, but
don't. i feel your
passing before i know,
before it's told to me
on the phone or was it
in a letter. the lines
are blurred at this
point. but i remember
you. as round and strong
as any man, snug in
your red beetle car,
your one arm always
burned from hanging it
out the window on a
day trip to the beach.
i see your big swing
standing at the white
plate, the sun and
everyone so much younger
than we are now.
and it's your wife,
whom i've never met
that sends the note.
i remember. i
remember. and it's
unsettling, the passing
of childhood friends.
the dark water rising
so quickly.