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When I first started submitting my poetry to literary journals, I ran across one journal that requested the writer send no poems regarding dead relatives or pets, rhyming (in the improper/inexpert way) or lists sent in the guise of poems. While I think these are in general excellent regulations, there are times when the only way I remember you're human is by listing. I keep lists in a spiral bound notebook of all the things you've ever said or done. I re-read them before I go to sleep at night and each night sighs out loud,"Ah, that's so poetic." I can't help but agree, since the night could swallow me up like it does to the stars over and over again. I wonder sometimes if this isn't a poem, if the words in my head are or the stop sign on the corner of Few and Williamson. I wonder if you are a poem, and that is why I re-write and re-read you every night, so I can remember your words when the time comes.