After the Asparagus Festival

I want to work on my story about the last tattooist in Bosnia, but I keep thinking about this day.





Two boys rode with me in that silent car, exhausted after working the rich-kid candy booth all day. You had a father killed suddenly a week before. Sonnyboy had a student recital that night and no clean tux. "I have a black suit", you offered.



When I sent you that card, I didn't know what to write, so I quoted from "The Death of Superman".



It was when I realized that you were a man, because you cried like one.




I miss you.