The year that he left

Another explosion, another bombing, another celebrity lost weight, gained it.

The news reached me, a month or two late, sometimes not at all.

There was a war on, families starving, naughty congressmen, and other pressing matters. 

But in my dreams we were driving in his truck, and the wind blew our messy hair,

And I absorbed his words like a sponge, and no news was good news.