driving through a solitude's haze--
                                 eyes once so perceptive blinded now,
                                   flooded by a lifetime's tears,
                                    extinguishing the last flicker . . .
                              with only one memory left,
                                 one image left burning--
                                clutching a Budweiser cup
                                 on an asphalt's Friday sun,
                                  and catching a pretty girl's smile
                                   with my own,
                                  dancing around just the right words
                                    never spoken . . .
                                now twenty years later--
                                  too long to splice meaning
                                    onto one missed chance--
                                 brings a final understanding
                                    in an end to words . . .