i want you to have them

a friend wrote a lovely poem about dreams, living large in the future. and it was a peculiar sense of wonderment (that's a borrowed word, first time i've ever used it), that i want my friends to be happy. to be fat and laughing. to be at peace. every last one of them.

what can i do to that end, to ease your burden?

for now, i can only listen. offer you what i have, a few poems, and encouragement.

a poet came to see me at work tonight (rather, he went grocery shopping and there i was, the two not to be confused, but the former is a happy fiction). and it was so good, it is always so good, to see the slight crinkle around the glimmering eye of those i love.

be happy my friends. though i hate that word, i want that for you.

if i could package it, beg it borrow it, steal it for you, i would.

but we must find our own way, it seems.

we must navigate our own uncertainties in the moment and often, most often, friends are not gathered round.

ah but for the sympathetic ear when grief exacts its toll. and even when the patience has run out, (friends are limited imperfect beings just as i), it is still good to know there is a sympathetic ear, none the less.

but i'm tired now. fifty two pages await me, then to the stables early.

i will see bucky, gorgeous bucky. his buckskin coat (mudcaked though it is) glistening in the sun. his mud clotted mane, wafting in the breeze, and he will know he is adored, i will be grateful to be his friend in this brief transitory life when words often elude us until the moment has passed and it is too late.

but all ends well.

how does it?

i don't know, it's a mystery.