You used to say

it was never just

a deck of baseball cards.


I would shut you off

when you rattled on

and on


about each pitcher

batter star



especially the

holographic ones:

โ€œlook how they shineโ€.


they found your favorites

in your left chest

pocket afterwards:


eight passengers,

two drunk

no survivors.


there is no closure.

only pain, tugging at heart-

strings that now stretch on


and on

to where you are and

wherever you may be


but these heart-

strings, now, begin

on the back


of a deck of cards:

see here my favorite, and

look how it shines,


for you.

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