Lucas, my friend

By Eli Marcus

He sent me a few words today, like he does at least weekly:

“cheek by jowl”

He says it means close together, doesn’t mention its negative connotation— he never packs a negative connotation— he never nags that I’ve crossed the nation and left him so close to home.

We remain nested in conversation— benched beside the reservoir or Lincoln/Cypress station— waiting for the past to return so that we might return to the last bookstore so that he might pick another biography from the depths—of all the words he never chooses his own.

We’re far apart by now— maybe it’s easier this way to forget that I remember so little about him. I wonder how he would write this poem— I doubt he thinks it matters, though I guess I wouldn’t know.

Ode to this logophile who hates linguistics and visits the stable to let the horses graze.