Posted in Uncategorized by gvd on February 11, 2015

 To GcR – Ina Vandebroek

You died, and I did not even go
to your funeral. It was 1990 when
we met, your long black hair framed
your face like a painting, your smile
made happiness out of air, just like that.
How was I to know that 25 years later
I would write you this farewell poem?
You were my racing buddy:
Blue Ford Escort against Red Fiat.
I won, but only because I cheated a red light,
I was always the slicker one.
But you just laughed at my fake victory
and we went to Paris anyway,
no permission asked to no-one.
Pere Lachaise and Jim Morrison
were waiting for us and only we knew
because we had a Peace Sign
and a Love Heart carved into our chests.
We drove off without a map or plan,
Paris was somewhere and it would find us,
your back seat window so dirty it spelled
“Hello I love you won’t you tell me your name”
with our fingers. We were timely then,
but looking back only the memory
of your laughter was forever.The daisies
on the Paris campgrounds won’t remember
your drunk singing, nor will the frogs.
But I would give a couple of pints of blood
and a few organs to return to that morning,
with the promise to see your face again,
slightly tilted towards the sun.
I will never forget how much we wanted
to get lost driving, but how eager
we were to be found, really.
All it took was the innocence of a new day.

Ina Vandebroek, 02/09/15

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