For a Friend...

Each time you don’t answer,

I call again. I call your mom. I call your mom again.

I wait.

When was the last time I spent time with you?

Was it at that coffee shop when we got smiles from strangers

Because you were playing your ukulele loud enough for everyone to hear?

We let our tea get cold in night.

The manager picked up our mugs and kindly asked us to leave.

They were closing.

I turned my car off once we pulled into your driveway,

Your family, inside, packing for your vacation.

You couldn’t remember if you had already told me

So the words came out of your careless, cool smirk—

You didn’t want anyone to miss you

When you were gone.

Gone.

For that second you matched those passing strangers.

I blinked so I could see you clearer.

Turned away and turned back

To see your face still bright from the house light—

And even though your glasses weren’t slipping

You pushed them up,

Shrugged, and kept on talking.

No. It was when you bought me lunch last week.

I put honey in my oatmeal.

You told me to make sure you didn’t eat all of yours

Because it would make you sick.

I had to remind you three times.

You were wearing the necklace I gave you, the one with the small frog on it.

You said you never took it off because you love it.

Because you love me.

When was the last time I told you that I love you?

Yesterday? Today?

I wish it were enough.

(Maybe you’re still asleep)

I’ll call again. No answer.