Oh, Frank. *sigh*
I’ve been thinking about you lately, and I don’t know why.
You’ve missed so much–especially in the past couple of years. Things can get depressing here, what with the political scandals and the crime and that idiot down at City Hall that makes me think like someone from my father’s generation. But then along comes a day like today–beautiful, warm, some would say hot–and you forget all that. In part because your brain is baking in the sun and can’t be bothered with much other than breathing and sweating and the involuntary junk, but also because…well, I dunno. It’s kinda primal. Like, just now: the warmth on my forearms and the back of my neck as I walked home for lunch was enough to make me wanna rip off my shirt and dive straight into the Mississippi. Or at least a pool. (I’ve never been as strong a swimmer as you.)
That doesn’t really address the issue of why you’ve been on my mind. All I know is that if I were ever that spontaneous, and if I ever did take such a plunge, I could only hope that you’d be there when I came up, ready with a beer and a joke. That’s not suicidal talk, just how I remember you. You were a frustrating, terrifying, but very welcome distraction.
I’m sorry. I know I sound whiny and self-pitying like that annoying A. J. Soprano (another thing you’ve missed). Maybe I just need some coffee.
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