Stuart died.
It happened at our book club.
Vinyl Café had been off the air for a few years
but seemed like a fresh memory.
Then someone mentioned how I
could do a spot-on impression.
So, I tried it and botched it
and everyone was embarrassed
the one guy for talking me up
me for letting him down
everyone else for witnessing it.
It wasn't surprising
you must hear the voice clearly in your head
to really nail an impression.
Stuart's voice wasn't fresh enough.
It seemed cruel for him to live on that way,
in a clumsy imitation.
Worse, he would have spun the same story
differently
same awkward circumstance,
because that's life,
but his ending
would have landed somewhere comforting.
You could almost hear it.
Almost.
