Friday, November 18, 2011

end of something?

i think
this thing
has run its course

after seven years of
coffee and correspondence
impromptu trips to
power outages

airport pickups to pull
all-nighters to cull
useless hours out of
overlain layovers

phone marathons and
closet skeletons
hung out to dry

we face a

friendship in the


like crossbill chickadees
hard to pick up the nourishing morsels to feed us from

i seek to understand this
is it you?
your unhappiness against my joy?

or is age catching up on us, me finally acting mine, you not quite acting yours yet?

this may be a fork, but it can also be a river braid
like my beloved Matanuska maid
or her brother Knik, his Arm
extending into many
when the tide is low and the sun of May
stays warm

i'm sorry dear
i cannot wait for you
my time is now
and so is yours

let's not try to hold on to something
that walked away from us a couple of letters ago

i thank you for walking some of my way
with me
for talking me through many a day's
for allowing me to save
yours from drowning

harsh words come to mind
but never travel lower
find my lips
not in this life

but do remember:
you feel you've got it rough
look around
your neighbor's life is at least as tough
as you thought yours would ever be