I sit in the rows of benches
With the possible company of his death
The cold spaces of the ice rink-
Thick winter jackets and wool scarves-

Can come tangled together in seconds
Within a cut off circle of hooligans
Not that I think
If his lungs contracted to suffocate his heart
Stumbling to leave a crack in the ice
I would crash into his chest
The blades of cheaply bought rusting skates
Mislead Into a fog of lost oxygen

Or there would be a moment
For us to reminisce the life forgotten
Some titanic scene, a sinking boat
Where the pools of waves, at the count of three
Sink into the shadows of the challenger deep

It's just the way his temples crinkle
At the sign of a smile
The way his fingertips curve tightly
around yours when you're scared you'll fall
And the tranquil melody of his raspy voice
In the midst of a cold
And when you consider the era
The un-timed tick of a broken clock
And all the glass retaining you inside the ice rink

Well I just think it would be good if one of us
Maybe took the words to say I love you
If not in the length of a poem
Then in the simplest form of endearment

Lying silently side by side
On the abiding ice age