Dear Charlie,

Today in Hong Kong we are burying
a cop. Full honours: rain. Pipes sing
heartbroke and lost. Shots
whack wet air above his grave. That
new red flag folded and handed to his
wife. His little boy was there. Joseph's
age, blank, brave. Camera flash
knocked him on his ass on the cemetery
steps. He just sat. His mom
got down next to him. Storm of flash. Such
a moment. Her fall of hair hid both their
faces, the tilt of her head to his said
a big fuck you to the watching world
and she talked him to his feet. Who knows what she said?
Mine would have said, be brave for your
daddy like he was brave. So men are
made.

Sunday I'll run. This world will never change.


Ben.