| Poet/Author

You never chose sides.

Best friend to my father,

confidant of my mother,

and my stepfather—

You were his cousin.

You loved us all...

 

Yet you weren't you in that mahogany casket,

face painted, hair bleached orange...

You weren't in that room where my step-uncle wept,

the one decked with flowers and tears.

You were home, I bet,

on the top of Mt. Lamborn,

signing out in the logbook that is kept at the peak.

 

 © 2000 Koda Gallegos, All Rights Reserved

in Loving memory of Anthony Dale Kondrat