His hair, still wild,
Is grayer now
And I run my hand through mine
And think some color
Might be helpful to us both.

He is lost
In the handshakes
Of well-wishers
And people who
Believe they had
Much to offer
To get him here

A few did, I will allow
And those that
Help him nowadays
Lay some better claim than I
To the mantle of friend.

But he knows
And I know what
We wrought.
Back when he was shattered
And brave, and I was
Just a bystander
Who maybe saved his life.

If so, I am only repaying the
Favor, a thing I’d like to tell
Him. But being a man
And far beyond
The hot confessions
Of our conjoined youth
I’ll have to wait
For some night
When we’re alone
And we’ve both had
Two too many Coronas

With or without the lime.

09/04/2009

Author's Note: To my best oldest friend on the anniversary of his birth, a significant number of years ago.

Posted on 09/04/2009
Copyright © 2025 Ken Harnisch