Etched into the sidewalk,
fine white curves and lines of chalk
uttered those words.
I wondered how your last night transpired—
perhaps you danced among the sunset fire
and sung within the midnight blues.
Maybe you ran until your lungs seared, then
soared into the sky above the city
on your magical high,
closing your eyes when your gas ran empty
and crashing like a comet into the bay.
I’d like to think you had your friends there
since family is nowhere
to be found and
you are not a person
to find.
I hope they laughed with you
until your eyes teemed with tears,
not the sad ones but
the resolute ones
as the last night of your life fizzled.
Tomorrow’s air is dry and harsh,
your brain parched
of the joy it consumed.
But if all your life was pinned on that night,
then you can be damn proud that
you lived it.