There are spider webs in the corner where you hide your demons. I pick the lint from the dryer vent & stare at the cavernoushole in the basement wall. The one that the energy companytold the landlords to fix last fall, but it got buried with loose snow,& clouded breath, & late rising full moons, & temporary sanctuaryof concern.         Or maybe they told me to tell the landlords to fix the hole,& I forgot. Like I forgot to buy you that ice cream years ago in summer, when the truck rolled by, singing that sticky song on repeat, slightly obnoxious;out of tune, & flat. You laughed as you fell from your bike, watching me try to pedal fast enough to keep the truck from turning the corner. I skidded to a halt, making sure you were okay - promised if you got up & we caught the doey-eyed, greasy teenager gunning that summer job down to the metal sparks, that I’d buy you every single scoop of cone there was to offer.  We never caught the truck. & at some point, (I’m not sure when)you stopped getting up. & at some point (even further down the line)I stopped asking you to. & then I stopped promising you prizes if you took one more step. If we just made it in time. If you didn’tsimply lie in bed, waiting for the sunset, like you watched the sunrise -from under the covers.  You argued that there were more burnt oranges & blood reds at night, & morehazel greens & grapefruit pinks in morning. You said it was becausethe day wasn’t jaded yet. & didn’t know the slightest thing about howone simple action could turn its hue. You said this as you foughtthe pills being placed on your tongue. You said you could taste the white dissolve. & no matter how many doctors prescribeda different cocktail of cure, you swore it was all placebo. You asked,over & over & over & over if I had placed your name, unwittingly,on some trial study that the FDA had yet to fund.         There are so manysynonyms for YES. There is one concrete syllable for NO.  So here I am again, daydreaming in dungeons & folding my clean sheets like yours were never dirtied. Like you never left a stain. Thinking of how thick, & dense, & unforgiving the Carolina dirt was, even before we laid your bones in a plot you bought the morning after he died. Thinking of how your demons, in their spider webbed& syrupped glory, have slowly, with flippant breath & fragile debt,made their web in this corner.         In my basement ceiling.     As if to remindme of all the things I didn’t bring myself to do to keep you. Insinuating that I couldhave played any other hand than the one dealt from your deck. Like I cheated in a gamewhere only you knew the rules. You’re still the only person I’ve known who could loseeverything, including life, & still call it a win.