...So why do we insist
he has vanished, that death ran off with our
everything worth having? Why not that he was
swimming only through this life-- his slow,
graceful crawl, shoulders rippling,
legs slicing away at the waves, gliding
further into what life itself denies?
He is only gone as far as we can tell. Though
when I try, I see the white cloud of his hair
in the distance like an eternity.