Comments about Hannah Everette
Another man took me out tonight, but his hair was dark.
We made painful small talk in a hotel bar
Before I cut the evening short with an excuse.
You would have laughed, I’m sure.
I can picture you still as you were:
Short, blond, crouching on top a rusting see-saw
Reciting Edgar Allan Poe.
When I hear The Bells I think of you.
You introduced me to O. Henry and Twain.
I took them to bed and they’re still there—
But you have never joined us.
Do you think of me when you read them? When you sleep?
Sometimes, I imagine we pass carts ...