we missed you, said my friend, the one who saw me with dangling ahir, as a weeping willow's hair, no sunblock that day, for the clouds sprinkled down like dew drops into her iconic hieroglyph nose. the tattoo of a pure kind, the kind no one hints about hockey practice because the dome was too pill-shaped no jokes about addiction here coach said, no jokes about addiction here unlike donw at AA where we met, then kissed under the moonlight, it was a rare kind of kiss, no thinking about how lips are too soft.