Real Life

How can I go back to the real life
when I have flowers like this on the table?
Blossomed and proud.
There to remind us where they came from.
The kind that take in light,
not to be greedy, but to grow.

Standing quiet.
They sway slightly,
Just enough to make room for the breeze.

Eve Van Dyke

Is that you?

Sometimes I read your obituary
To remember where I came from
According to Google,
It’s the only piece left of you.

Sometimes I read message boards
And find the comments you left
From years past
Your memorable usernames,

Your use of all CAPS,
Your strange humor.

Sometimes I find profiles
Of people who share your name
And wonder if there’s a little
of you
in them

Sometimes I think
That if I search long and deep enough I’ll find you there
Floating and waiting, your picture next to an “add” button

And I’ll finally know
where you’ve been all this time.

Eve Van Dyke