I’m remembering that last poem you helped me with, the one about talking to
a friend on Skype being like a road trip through eastern Europe to a glistening
lake in summer, and how you found the noun “goodness” I used to stand
for what had happened between her and me, as “ruinous”—your word,
not mine—and how your reaction confused me, how in response to your pushing
me to be more clear, I tried to tell you what this “goodness” meant
to me.
Then I backed off from our dialogue when you persisted in finding my word as
“ruinous” to the poem. Whether it was my fragile ego or a strong sense
of what I wanted to say no matter what you, the accomplished poet thought, I lost
the chance that night to learn how to write verse that sings more powerfully, more
humanly, perhaps.
And now, a week later, you’re gone and I didn’t find the time to tell
you this, Steve, but you were right that “goodness” didn’t really
convey anything real or true or useful in writing my little story. Yes, I felt let
down in that difficult late-night email conversation; and yes,
I miss your generous heart, your rambunctious intelligence that threw such sensuous
light onto all our lives, your commitment to say it like it is to help a fledging
poet say it better, your challenging me to write and re-write until it’s as
clear and pristine as that good day at the imagined lake in the Baltics.
Yes, dear Steve, you master poet in old blue jeans,
you mirthful mensch with that torn crotch in faded
dungarees, your eyes ablaze with mischief and
earthy fierce compassion,
I miss what I will call
your goodness, now.
—First appeared in The Beautiful Mundane on 26 April 2015;
republished here by author’s permission
Based in San Diego, Lautz is a LCSW (Licensed Clinical Social Worker) with 35 years
of psychotherapy experience in both private practice and healthcare settings. He
also writes poetry, paints, and creates unusual, often semi-abstract photographs.
And he loves hiking and hitting the running trails in nearby canyons and hills.
Author’s blog: The Beautiful Mundane