Lulu

I walk into
the club.
It is dark
and loud.
I can not
breath
from the
smoke.
I am holding
your hand
as you pull
me through
the crowd
and letting
go would
mean
I would
get lost.
The bass is
turned up so
loud, that
my heart has
no chance of
beating.
Its intoxicating
The music.
Its angry.
Not my type
of music.
But Listening
to the groaning
and the screaming
is drawing me in.
We make it
to the bar.
Your long curly
dark hair is pulled
back.
You have black nail
polish on and there
is a ring on every
finger.
Ring in your nose.
Here I sit.
Jeans and a cardigan.
Plain.
How did I become
your friend.
As you do shots
we get up and dance
with a group
of people.
The world is
spinning and at this
moment I feel like
I fit into this life.
Strange, odd and dark.
As we are leaving
you say to me,
I do not want to live past 40.
What could possibly
be at 40.
You died at 35.
You did not make
it to 40.
I made it to 42
and Louann
You missed so
much.
So much love.
Life.
and yes pain.
Growth and Learning.
You used to call
me Cardigan
all the time.
Because you
thought I was so
conservative.
When I went to your
funeral, I remember
all the singing
and the crying.
I remember
you bought me
pool sticks for
Christmas one
year and I
bought you
a baby pink
cardigan.
I dreamt of you
last night.
You looked beautiful
and I am sorry
to say..
You looked 40.