A longtime friend calls, says she is
stopping by
I put the kettle on and prepare our
Favorite tea. We sit at my table and
Reminisce on our teddy bear tea parties
And makeover games. She asks how I have
Been and I do the same as I pour the
Tea into the mix match cups. I smile and
Let her know my life has had its ups and
Downs since we had last seen each other
but
I am happy. She says the same like she
Always has had and adds all the good
things I
Feel she knows I cannot achieve. I roll
My eyes as I get out snack of crackers
and cheese.
We eat and drink and look over old
memories
In a photo album she brought. The next
page
She turned was the one that caused butterflies
To nervously flutter in my stomach
I’ve never seen or heard of what she is
Telling me now. But that’s no surprise
we
Haven’t seen or heard from one another
For so long her chance to gloat has been
held back.
I smile and laugh at her puns as the
Butterflies sweep through. She finally
rolls
Out an excuse to leave, she is bored.
As we walk to the door the butterflies
Escapes me and relief takes over.
She drives away and so does my envy
Of her, she is after all my oldest
friend,
Why think such jealous thought of a
person
Who is not here? Why be jealous of a
Person who seems to take pleasure in
seeing
Others envy her desires and gifts
She is after all my oldest friend.
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The Good News
We sip old Scotch, the good stuff, order in,
some Indian—no frills too fine for him
or me, particularly since it's been
ages since we made the time.
Two drinks in, we've caught up on our plans.
I've sleepwalked through the last few years by rote;
he's had a nasty rough patch, quote unquote,
on the home front. So, we commiserate,
cupping our lowballs in our hands.
It's great to see him, good to have a friend
who feels the same as you about his lot—
that, while some grass is greener, your small plot
is crudely arable, and though you're not
so young, it's still not quite the end.
As if remembering then, he spills his news.
Though I was pretty lit, I swear it's true,
it was as if a gold glow filled the room
and shone on him, a sun-shaft piercing through
dense clouds, behind which swept long views.
In that rich light, he looked not like my friend
but some acquaintance brushed by on the train.
Had his good fortune kept me from the same,
I had to wonder, a zero-sum game
that gave the night its early end?
Nothing strange. Our drinks were done, that's all.
We haven't spoken since. By morning, I
couldn't remember half of what the guy
had said, just his good news, my slurred goodbye,
the click of the latch, the quiet hall.
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