splat #15

i loved
an old hippie named
dave lived life

like a poet
surrounded by
family friends

haloed continuously
by tobacco and weed
read 2 sci-fi novels

a day
a quiet life
ended quietly

3 years ago
stroked out in
sleep

flying in a small
plane over the sf bay
above golden gate

one night the
black endless
pacific below

sf living
dappled in
no past no future

the continual
present in
life

in death
there is no
here here