On Returning To London After a Friend's Death (poem)
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Last night, I walked your sweaty city under an Almost full moon.
Perspiration scurried down forehead into eyes,
Poured from neck to back,
Drenching knapsack.
Britain's latest heatwave has
Shop workers venting in doorways,
Exhausted tourists unprepared with nary a Bottle of water.
Your family warned me to mind the weather.
If you were here,
You'd tell me about starfish.
Rather, about the starfish position
In a hot room:
Lie on bed,
Arms up and out,
Legs spread.
What little air moves through space
May find its way to your
Sweaty bits.
This, just one light example of
Your deep friendship,
Gifting empathy to a situation
Humor and advice, too,
Though never unsolicited
You heard when to help,
When only to listen.
Tonight,
Late,
Rain expected.
I think of you singing
Under a dripping tree
In the park at street's end.
It was very dark that night.
Cold.
Still, you laughed and
Crooned Pink Floyd.
I cannot yet bear returning
To your neighborhood,
12 tube stops down from my hotel.
But I will -
Perhaps tomorrow or the day after,
Caught in a steamy downpour,
Sweat and sky water commingling,
The moon hanging over your empty flat
Like a fat pearl,
Reminding me of death
As painful disappearance...
Yet, here you are!
Reemerging through
Living memories,
Through light.
-ka / IaB
26 June 2026
London, UK