In these days of everyone being traceable,
if they’re still among the living,
there’s this one friend from the old days
I still can’t track down.
Photography was his life.
His voice was as clear as the landscape
he came from: a place of green hills
where legendary battles were fought
by men on white horses.
Each day he headed into the hills
in his battered Datsun.
If you happen to see him,
please let me know.