“sans serif”

the lady who taught me
the definition of sans;
she is gone.

she also taught me
what a serif
is.

she was
a designer,
so she knew
about those
sorts
of things.

my life,
since she
took hers,
is so sans-serif
sometimes; like now.

fortunately for me,
i can still dream
and wake
up haunted by my
best dead friend
i'll never
have again.

i think of her often.
she'd promised
to bake me a pie
one day.
i haven't eaten
a slice
since she died.
maybe, i never will?

no.
no. pie is too much
worth living for.
no.
no. pie is too much
worth living for;
not something
i'd willingly live
without.

narrative poem written on 12-20-2013 by: on mattkane.com
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