My mamma’s always talking about her friend Mark,

the man she calls her soul mate.

She said they were two of a kind, the type of people just looking for someone

to talk to.

She said his hair was brown

and his eyes were blue

and if you looked just right you could see the person he was inside.

(a dreamer and a thinker)

Mamma’s eyes get misty when she smells Marlboro cigarettes

“they smell like Mark” she says “smoke and CK One”

Sometimes when the TV doesn’t work or the lights go out Mamma tells me

stories about Mark and the things they used to do.

Just when she’s about to start her nose wrinkles and her eyes twinkle

and you know she means what she says because the tears always gather on her

cheeks and she never bothers to brush them away.

(like when she watches TV)

“There are some people you’ll always love” she tells me “and there are others

you know you’re supposed to—it’s a shame the people you always love aren’t

the people you’re supposed to.

It was raining last Sunday when I found mamma crying

she didn’t brush the tears away

I knew,

I knew it was about Mark

Mamma said that Mark had to go

I didn’t ask when he was coming back

I knew,

I knew he was dead

(Mamma’s world came crashing down)

So I waited for Mamma to tell me stories

like she always did before

And just a day ago the breeze brought the smell of Marlboro cigarettes into

our yard

And finally Mamma’s eyes twinkled and her nose wrinkled

and tears came to her eyes.

Mamma says she’ll always love Mark

(I know she’s supposed to)