#275 - dead friend

 

29.x.20

275

dead friend

 

I have this friend who is dead

I/we have

indeterminate gender

lots of questions

we hang out together

every day

can report to her

what people are saying

 

at the conference

a lot of rescheduling

and first thing tell our dreams –

a childhood dictatorship

 

were testing things

pile of years still here

 

meek on the streets

and needs to be led

 

says nothing much at first

opens up with time

 

it’s pain to cut through I suppose

and you’re never surprised

 

how much silence should we read into this?

I don’t believe there’s a story

 

imagine folding down flat

case of arrested development

little devils drink up

they’re the detail

 

no one asks why are you here now

 

not the least nostalgia

but get there I’ll guess

 

my dead friend!

what times we had

may I jog you

 

s/he sees through us as well

 

the old days the good old

and death is a humbling thing all told

 

we’ll get there

we, busy with our observations

and having to look after

 

this friend is hollow

having lost a name

 

not bumping into

but hanging out together

as if on a long leash

 

measures of the good life

can see our friend’s in mourning

though I can’t recall a face

 

but draw a close circle

 

here’s hermit brought to light

death goes on

inside – we know it

can the others tell?

 

come slowly feel

 

you cannot imagine at chores

but lose the allegory shading

 

pass stethoscope through the treasured chest

a mock, no pressure in the blood at all

call me creature

 

turns out everyone can see him her

 

a Morris Minor you’re saying ‘66

seems late … odometer miles of course

 

touch feel

my friend has been before

 

I’m asleep and you’re dead

what’s the difference?

 

we’d go somewhere

if we had the licence back

s/he can see them too

what’s the difference?

 

everyone comes from goes that way

I too tell it  

a vanish into this book I am writing –

the only way to go