I still like to get back from Switzerland several times
in summer and more often in the other, colder, seasons
and tease Carlos — hanging, floating, just
above his head and to his blind side where
I call from. Sometimes he gives answer and
is half-embarrassed, knowing that I’m dead.
He can’t call me, but always takes my calls
and laughs when I make my known sort of jokes
that he liked better than most others when I was
alive and blind and living alone in my villa
on the river where I had moved to be nearer.