Friendship, In Metaphor

Yesterday I wrote of family.

A family of geese was the metaphor.

Today I write of friendship

and what can symbolize it best.

The first thing that came to mind

was my morning cup of coffee,

not that it is so good, oh, my, no.

For every cup of "good" coffee

I have ever had I have drunk

at least ninety bad cups

and ten more that were awful.

I do not mean to say a friend

is a "one in a hundred" thing,

that just slipped out,

but that morning cup of coffee,

good, bad, or awful,

when it is there at the right time

it does not have to be anything except itself,

helping me to get going

when the whole world could care less.

I pour it, sugar it, stir, hold it in my hand,

sip, "Yeah, thanks, old buddy."

I may not even finish it.

It is not the drinking,

but its being there that counts.

But a friend ought to be there

more than just when

the rest of the world

is telling you to phone ahead,

make a reservation.

I mean, I like that morning cup of coffee

and it is a real important thing in my life,

but as the metaphor for friendship,

it is not quite what I had in mind..

There is my cat, though.

Tigs is a friend and

what a friend he is.

He walks up to me,

puts his nose on my nose,

and if ever love was requited this is it.

Or he lies there on the bed

when I come in, looks up,

blinking those big eyes, asking,

it seems, "You need something, friend,"

and I cannot help myself.

I feel so good and smile,

pet him, give him a hug and a kiss,

and I cannot for the life of me
remember why I am there

or what I came upstairs to do.

He is a joy.

The way he sits and watches birds,

curls up on the window sill, looking out,

scratches at the door until I open it,

and then runs away, will not go out.

I do not know what I would do without him,

but as a metaphor for friendship

I have some reservations.

He is more like a wife or a mistress,

a very pleasant diversion,

a satisfier of real needs,

important, oh, yes, no doubt,

but unlike the morning cup of coffee
he and they may not always be there,

and I am not sure I would want them to be.

I was at a loss.

The geese just happened.

I did not have to ask myself what family meant.

There they were.

I wrote,

and that was that.

But friendship, real solid gold friendship,

I had to ask myself

just what I thought that meant.

Then this morning,

Providence intervened as it usually does.

The message came through

with a blast of trumpets,

a thousand voice chorus,

and a fly-by by the Blue Angels.

My underwear,

that has got to

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