"Tell me something

that makes you think of her

and I will think of it, too"

*

Omelets. The first time I met Jen

on that hot November day, nearly 80 degrees,

we went to the Arlington Diner with Debba

and I had an omelet the size of Montana.

*

Ireland. She was a first-generation Irish-American

and looked, shall we say, the part!

*

Flip-flops make me think of Jen,

and cigarette smoke, and her calling

an 83-year-old man "a mack daddy."

*

What makes me think of Jen?

All Saints Way in the North End.

She always wanted to see

this mammoth alleyway shrine

teeming with holy images and candles.

She never did.

*

Whenever Debba and I went to Christopher’s,

she'd be all, "I don't want to intrude

but can I join you and Deb for lunch?"

Good God, Jen! Of course you can!

Debba, stay home,

and I'll hang with my homegirl!

*

The Batman t-shirt she was wearing

in her hospital bed the last time I saw her.

I must have known because I said,

"I just adore you," and she said,

"Right back atcha."

*

I think of her forthrightness, 

her ability to push back

if she was getting

the short end of the stick.

*

I think of Lisa telling me that Jen

would always call her "kiddo" or "kid"

despite Lisa's being four years older!

*

I hope. I hope that in heaven

or Whatever Lies Beyond,

I can spend long hours

kneeling before Jen,

adoring her as if she were the Christ,

washing her feet with my tears

as if I were Mary of Bethany.