Dear Frank
I couldn’t have known you
your oranges gone moldy
wrapped in fuzzy green
and I miles away
from Fire Island
when I was 4
and you 10 times that.
If only
I’d been older
you’d been younger
we’d’ve had a beer
in the 80s in Brothers Tavern
in Aggieville REM playing
“So. Central Rain” murmuring
dark nonthreatening (I’m sorry)
the oaken tables reckoning
under the occasional
amber damp.