In the Lost and Found (Honky Bach)

I think I've forgotten how to

write about him

without sounding:

A) Outstandingly stupid

or

B) Amusingly teenage

I mean, I always have something to say

on the matter of his existence in the world,

especially in proximity to my own existence.

It's nice to know we can coincide in one

sphere of existence, somewhere.

That somewhere in living,

we've overlapped.

Two human beings who communicate.

That, at least, is reassuring.

I'm sure I've said so many

Dumb Things about him,

stupidly naive and teenage things;

I don't doubt that I have bored you all

with my rambling on his behalf.

But for good measure I go forth,

in saying that he is a most lovely

human being.

(He is not a Tralfamadorian. That is a hint.)

He is so silly... this is good,

for a serious man all the time would be

devastating.

I love his laugh,

this is impossible to get over somehow,

that his laugh is a

really great one.

It's weird like everyone else's,

but it's a good weird,

that people can handle and generally like.

His laugh

and his hands

and his silliness.

He's so strange,

and sometimes I get a little

mad at him.

This happens, we deal and move on.

It doesn't make me think any less of him.

I love that he plays guitar,

knows lots of things,

can be genuinely thoughtful

and then absolutely ridiculous.

Once, a long time ago,

(Ok, like a year ago or something)

after reading a poem,

"So what do you think love is? Like, define it."

He was like.

I'd never been asked to define the complexities of love

before, especially not on the spot.

And so after I think and think, he goes

"I think it means wanting the best for someone,

no matter what."

And I have since then added this to my

definition of love.

There's that part of him,

and then there's the part of him

that sings

"Springtime for Hitler" dramatically

and dances around going

"Ling ling!"

I mean,

honestly,

that's kind of rad.