I ran into an old friend today
who paid an unexpected visit
in the middle of the afternoon
during the devil’s hour
when I am not usually home.
Fortunately, for both of us
I decided to stay inside.
Putting off the errands
for another time, some whisper
perhaps a premonition, or poem,
invited me to wait for the visiter.
So I sat in my chair
by the door and waited
as the winter sun began to
set in the west and the
deepening silence settled
like a frost over my heart.
After some interminable moments
he came. There was no knock,
no invitation to enter. He was
just there, sitting in the chair
beside me wearing that old
worn-out jacket my father gave me.
You know how some friends
just don’t know how to listen.
He went on and on
about this, that, and the other thing,
while I spoke not a word.
“You can’t. You don’t. What if?
Who do you think you are?”
“What is it you want, my friend?” I asked.
After a pause, as a tear
rolled down our eye,
we said in perfect unison,
“Just know I’m always
here for you.” We embraced
and he was gone.
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