I wrote a poem awhile back, sometime within the past year, that I can’t find. And I want it.
I sometimes sit outside when it’s warm, brainstorming, waiting for something to spark something in me enough to write. On one particular day, this guy came riding his bike around our house. He did almost every single afternoon, at almost 4 o’clock. Every single day. I wrote a poem about him that day. I had only talked to him once, a few weeks after I had written that poem, and it wasn’t even really a conversation. It was a quick introduction, and I remember making a crack about him riding by my house all the time. It was the only time we ever spoke.
Well, he died this weekend in a car accident (he was a passenger in a car that was in a police chase. They rolled, and he was killed). I think more than anything else, I am so sad that I didn’t get the chance to know him. He seemed nice and like the type of person you’d want to know. I didn’t even know his last name, and my brother is the one who finally told me who he was this morning. And he’s all I have thought about ever since. It’s sad. He just rode by last week again, on the first nice day after that short cold front we had.
So now I am scouring notebooks and journals, trying to find this poem. I have found many others that I might post sometime, but not the one I need. Keep your fingers crossed for me.
UPDATE: Found it! Wrote on June 22, 2009. I knew it was summertime. I’ll post it soon.
