My Ode to Ashkan

 There’s a guy

Who I’ve known

For not even a year

Though I’ve seen his curls

Wiggle to the sky

And his smiles

change the traffic lights

There was a morning

When I was so sad

He sent me moving pictures of him

In the basement next to the pink box of detergent

A boxy black and white instrument

In his hands

Up and down sound shoot through

Computer speakers

And suddenly

There’s life

Green is growing

Maybe a sun is shining

And hidden from under

A mound of Emptiness

Is a smile

Previously lost

In a pocket

Of a coat

I thought I gave away

He told the Richards to shut up

Certain and stubborn

So I did too

His heart is rare, like a stone

No one knows the name of yet

He’s a quiet guy

Though they think he’s loud

He’s cooking ideas

When others are sleeping

He’s loba

and he is very important

like a badge that gets you into

some awesomeness room