I am a life-sized, cardboard stand-up.
Place me in the room sometime and speak of me aprés mort.
I hope your words are kind.
I hope you remember that I was kind and that,
At one time,
I fit in your world like a puzzle piece.
Do you speak of me, with a twinkle in your eye,
To your sister-in-law?
Do you think of me at all?
All those summers.
All those hand-worked secrets that took days
Not a day goes by, for me.
The one hearing the dial tone,
Seeing the empty mail box.
I think of you.