I've been trying to e-mail you,
Trying to tell you that I find
Things don't work anymore,
Pens fall from my pockets.
My socks on the floor.

I almost fell down yesterday ...
Or was it earlier today?
They picked me up right away, but
They didn't laugh like before.

I keep finding my face
In the obits in the Times.
The rest? We know the news, no?
Already we know the news.
I tried to e-mail you today.

I knew you were feeling poorly:
You said that you were hurting again.
But when I went online to find you
I was told "There is no response."
"The sender cannot be found."

I think on you, the two of us:
You and me and a cold winter
In the dark just outside Vélez:
Tart wine, the two of us shivering
Hot in a great gray night.

The next day, on the light sands,
Alone: the turn of your shoulders
As your shift came down, the sun's
Lifeline across your neck;
Your eyes hazy, an idle hair
Where it shouldn't have been
Where (you said so much later)
We should never have been ...
Should never have been.

I don't go out very much,
Stay home, haven't been out
For a week, now; perhaps a month.
The doctor says I should
Go out more often, should not
Forget to take my pills.

That summer we seemed to spend
So much of our time bathed in music
And the cold Mediterranean.
You played Bach and Padre
Antonio Soler and "Der Tod und
Das Mädchen" over and over again.
Again we were listening to each other
Listening to the night again.

The server said
"There can be no response."
And when I tried to call
A man's voice said,
"If you want to make a call
Hang up and try again."

I've been trying to e-mail you.
Things don't work anymore.
I almost fell down yesterday;
Don't go out much anymore.

--- Walter F. Sargent
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