There is something heartbreaking
about a friend who is normally
paint splattered and rusty
in a starched white collar and suit
You said it, but more heartbreaking
to me was his lumbering walk up the aisle
in those shining clothes
And the flaccid feel of his
newly-shaven cheekon my lips
in the receiving line And the pink tinge
around his eyes
that searched over my head
And the slight flare of his nostrils
as he introduced me to his sister
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