SIX FLAGS

It was your gold card, not mine,
but I still receive the e-mail.
All I wanted in life was to ride
a goddamn roller coaster with you
follow you to the ocean
die beside you
wearing a ring
tangible proof
of some kind of something
more than most of us
will ever know.
It's true.
I wanted your name.
Your hands were the hands
I hoped would scatter
my ashes into the Pacific.
I'm old now and I'm a little bit smarter
than I was when I drove to the police station
that night and thought by filing a report
I could erase you forever.
You remain.
Last night I read about a hotel in Peru.
It was only a few sentences
in a much larger book about the Inca.
I'll never see that hotel.
The lights.
The marble.
The godliest gleam.
I'll die with an unstamped passport
no ring on that finger
and wah wah woo
life is such a George Jones song, baby.