Too quick we are to call each other friend –
a sense of something missing drives us to it.
Be not surprised when such engagements end.
We know, deep down, that all along we knew it.
We knew the thing had never had the time
to root itself in knowledge of the other –
to wait and see – when waiting is sublime –
to reach that place where friend is more like brother.
We’re haunted by a memory of days
when people seemed to be attuned to more
than wond’ring if they’d get that longed-for raise,
communal living more than keeping score.
In one sense, we have lost life’s poetry –
where sharing was the rule and love was key