A flurry of ash.
You should have seen the way the shots were fired!
Tracer rounds were everywhere.
Then there was the snowstorm. You remember that weekend, that city? The scarf I improvised that day is wrapped about my left hand.
This is the only time I’ll ever mention names; ask Chris.
While you’re all sleeping, I spend time with our ghosts. It’s my job. They once called me ‘Guardian Angel’.
It’s raining here, and so pretty, reminds me; all of you.
A kiss from the temple ’cross that desert.
A place I knew as Narayan.