the thin
back page of the metro section,
of the weak
and weightless
newspaper,
that Chip has died.
an old not quite friend.
suddenly it says.
the word suddenly stands out,
which makes me wonder
was it a fall,
an accident of sorts,
a car crash,
a drowning, was it his
heart giving in,
with all those steps
in his house,
and his daily
routine of a triple layered
ham sandwich,
on his homemade
sourdough panini?
sans pickle.
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