Gary F. Iorio

I wrote a short story and you were not in it. No
remembrance fictionalized.
Your name was left out as well.
No moonlight, no purple negligee. The porch
was there with someone else
on the swing.

The characters needed a place. Yes,
a large Victorian. Ellen pushes
the pages back to me “Vinnie, it’s true as a bell.”
I show my wife everything,
even this thing.

I wrote a short story and you were not in it.
It was easy Kathleen.