The view from George’s

George Stavro

it took my breath when George left
a check returned
a voicemail full
no one remains
to gather the stray ends of life
or write an obituary

his wife gone twenty years
his only son, in California
dead within the last two
his best friend too, who had
willed him his Volvo
a girlfriend in Prague

George first called me
the week I had the baby
my first client in town
an old-school engineer
befuddled by spreadsheets
and email attachments

I knew him through two apartments
five or six email addresses
called the front desk
braced myself for the news
wondering whose cords
his cat now chews

© 2015 Eileen Ridge