Dearly Departed

He was gone, just like that.
Not even a note.
No smiling geisha with an armful
of cryptic cue cards slowly revealed.
The skywriters held no clues.
We looked into the spinning of spiders
and only found unconnected webs.
The radiation blast
did not capture his shadow.
He was a phantom almost overnight.
Gone, just gone.
The court reporter read it back:
It wasn’t anything we said.
He was just gone.
So why was that purple tabby all a-grin?
I bet it had something
to do with that blonde girl
and all her colored gemstone baubles.
Drink us, they said
but his blood samples were all
clean as the bib of an old sleeping nun
in the shadow of a peach tree.
He must be chasing after the tail of summer.
Must be.
It’s the only conclusion that
makes no sense.