Tonight I am reading Neruda’s “Ode To An Aged Poet”
and thinking about where words come from and where they go.
You always enter a room with a joke and now I turn around
and see laughter sitting in the corner waiting for the punch line.
You know sickness isn’t funny but then I know the next thing
you’ll say is — “How are you doing Comrade Miller?”
Saul, can you tell me why everything around you plays catch
with the letter C? Cuba, Castro, Chile, Cinema and now (c)ancer.
Only you could have written something like this. So tell me
another joke. I want to laugh long into the night. I want our
friendship to wait for the stars to come down and kiss California.
Yes — another C. How are you doing Comrade Landau?
Is that a Camera in your hands? Tell me about the morning,
the light, the sweet scent of Peace. Teach me to remember
— all the days of our love.
— E. Ethelbert Miller, July 5, 2013