My Friends Poem
April 13th, 2019

Happy anniversary to tying friendly ties 
post-Rocky-Horror-Shadow-Cast:
tensionless ends knotted up in unison.
Tightly bound by close calls:
bros for life is a limit we nearly exceeded.
It’s time I stop testing strengths
to appreciate support.
Admire connection in its slack 
and feel rescued it was there:
earlier, I wasn’t eating.
And they insisted I fill them in
while filling up,
so I don’t thin out.
Help is not sought when getting
served at the same time 
of being needed:
like offering Cookie
crums to soak crying eyes
as reciprocation for last time.
We’ve now made loops of that slack,
where chance becomes pattern
and coincidence, alignment:
scatters to vectors:
passersby to direction: 
held breaths to hellos.
From goodbyeless,
to all my people
telling me to text them
when I get home.
How could I forget with such leftovers of love?
Now my fridge is full.
But let’s still go out!
Again.
Celebrate to the soundtrack by the best boyband.
With comradery and oversight,
plaster our emotional imaginations across public faces
or practice speeches to the masses through text-message-poetry. 
And, no! I will not charge for rides to identical destinations because 
my friends are the guide through which I enter the ritual of life.
They coat me in personhood and feed me the language of inside jokes.
So take my scarf, my jacket, my ancestral jewelry:
these are all a matter of thanks
after being wrapped in their
layers of Joie!
What I need to remain 
alive.  

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