Both of us had been close
to Joel, and at Joel’ s death
my friend had gone to the wake
and the memorial service
and more recently he had
visited Joel’ s grave, there
at the back of the grassy
cemetery among the trees,
“a quiet, gentle place,” he said,
“befitting Joel.” And I said,
“What’ s the point of going
to look at graves?” I went
into one of my celebrated
tirades. “People go to look
at the grave of Keats or Hart
Crane, they go traveling just to
do it, what a waste of time.
What do they find there? Hell,
I wouldn’ t go look at the grave of
Shakespeare if it was just
down the street. I wouldn’ t
look at — ” And I stopped. I
was about to say the grave of God
until I realized I’ m looking at it
all the time....