I got the 2nd anniversary of Tami’s death creeping up on me in less than an hour, one tic past midnight. I have a sense of dread & rising anxiety, like I’m going to break when it arrives. It didn’t help to get extra stoned. I’m not usually prone to paranoia but I’m walking a fine edge tonight. There’s so much I miss about her but mostly it’s her friendship, she was the one who knew me best & she loved me unconditionally. We talked about growing old together & now I’m here without her, gone at 61. She’s missed 2 birthdays & I miss her all the time but work hard not to dwell on it. And I’m starting to feel better, less tense, better prepared. It’s raining, I hear it patter the roof. I like that. I took Pittie out a little while back. She quickly peed & made a beeline for the front door. We were out all of 2 minutes. Now she’s crashed under a blanket on the sofa next to me. So I’m not so alone, I have this happy dog who sometimes is a pain in the ass. But we love one another & she makes me move & gives me another life to care about. Tami saw to that. She stayed long enough to help us find Pittie & get her settled & then she was gone. Two years, fast & slow but always real. So here I sit, writing this, remembering, taking things a minute at a time. Not so curious about the future, it’ll come & I’ll have to let it happen. Then someday Tami here again, or me there, however it happens. Or nothing, nothing above or beyond, not even a black hole, just original nothing. I won’t know it anyway. I’ll be nothing too.
Bart Solarczyk lives In Pittsburgh, PA with his dog Pittie & cat Millie. His poems have recently appeared in Big Hammer, Roadside Raven Review & Pittsburgh Magazine. His book Tilted World is available from Low Ghost Press. Another collection, Classic Chapbooks, is available from RedHawk Publications & on Amazon.