It's useless to pretend you
would have been
a genius. I taught you and I
know.
You made the team, but others
made it win.
A ready smile made up for
being slow.
You'd have been ordinary in
the end:
the hardest worker someone
ever had,
one woman's husband and one
man's best friend,
recipient of cards for
"world's best dad."
So why, where you'd have
been, is there a blank
so huge, a hole where all
thoughts go to die?
The world has only lost one
of its rank
and file. You didn't even
make me cry.
Why do I go outside at one
a.m.
and search the stars as
though I'd numbered them?
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