His life sits
In a collection of notebooks
I'm not sure why he chose me
To leave them to
I was only a teacher who did little more
Than erase the board
Everyday of my life
 
He approached me one morning
Or afternoon after class
And asked to borrow a book
Sitting on a shelf
And now he leaves me this
 
What am I to think about you now
Steven
Where do I go

Agnostic
Writing about the beauty of God
You tell me
 
You wrote to me about Socrates
Examining one's life

You wrote about the smell of cheap lipstick
And called it stage
You wrapped clouds around your ankles, boy
What are you leaving me here with

Pantheistic procreator
I'm old now Steven
You would like me more
 
Gratefully you accepted a pirate tattoo

You wanted to draw pictures and jump
Into them

You told me your heels were kicking at heaven
Don't kick so hard

You told me about musty corners
And empty bottles of rum
I wish you were here
 
As an atheist

 you told me you prayed silently
You told me it was too soon for you to have grace
It isn't

You wanted internal and external obliteration
N e v e r

You were mine
Are mine
And I sing your praises
 
If ever a teacher could acceptably love a student
I could have you

I wish I could have reached you
You talked of words and solitude
It was beautiful then

Now I want you back
 
You talked about insanity of great people
You talked about rain from heaven

I wish I could believe you and I do
You wanted to see the floor of a sea
You told me that innocence had taken a sabbatical

Sometimes you thought we knew too much
Who's to say
 
You told me you made a choice too late

You wondered who and what you were
You asked forgiveness

You told me you looked in from the outside
Eluding illusions you said
You praised the individual
I miss you
 
It's October again
That season of seasons

I have become what you hoped I would
I see you in the stars at night
I feel you on the wind
I know that you exist beyond me
I miss you