i remember talking to you. i talked to you more than anyone sometimes, sometimes you were the one and only one, and often i didn't know if i was talking aloud or inside. you were inside anyway. when i looked you were always listening. i had a series of frustrated dreams last night, and the last picture was of you slumped in a wheelchair through a threshold i didn't recognize. in life i was frustrated i couldn't cure your arthritis and i couldn't keep you alive. and now is pandemic frustration. i just don't want to have frustrated dreams of you because you sustained me through frustration after frustration, even the frustration of not being able to heal you and keep you with me. it may not be so different now, in a way you are still here with me, in a way you knew me so well, that i may just be a frustrated man, ok.