A poem a day for 2013 - day 85 - Remembering

I woke up this morning
At the God hour of three
Thinking about my friend M
And the days we sat in her kitchen
She smoked cigarettes
I drank wine
While she edited some book at her desk
Blew smoke out the window

She had stories to tell
That would go on forever
I listened and laughed
As long as she spoke

She and her family were from New York
M came out first
Then her sister
A cousin
A brother
Her mother

Her mother moved into
A convalescent home nearby
She hated LA
Escaped from her bed
Fought with the staff
To stand in the hall
In the middle of the night
To call New York
No one in particular
Just hold the phone to her ear
And talk to New York

Her mother died months later
Still wanting New York

One day M was alone
And her nephew came by
For money
For coffee
To stay through the night
She got a bad vibe
And turned him away

Later, weeks later
Nephew came back
They sat in her kitchen
Talked while she smoked
As he stood to say goodbye
She got that vibe from before
He walked close behind her
And pulled out a knife
Stabbed her eleven times
In the back
Under her neck
Close to her chest

This is for not letting me in before
You bitch
You bitch

And then ran away

Nephew is still in jail
M did not die
Till six years later
Not from the knife
But cancer
The cigarettes
The smoke she blew out the window
The smoke trapped in her lungs
With her stories
That laugh
All those poems

This morning at three
I was back in her kitchen
With wine
With tea
While she edited some book
Blew smoke out the window
Told her stories to me