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I can tell you anything.
I cry on your shoulder.
I go to the movies with you.
We play cards on saturday evenings.

You can tell me dark things.
You laugh at my humor.
You wince when I hurt.
We play golf in the winter.

We go walking down a road of misfortunes.
We take the wrong turns and usher each other back.
We sleep in the day and hang out at night.
We are inseparable, almost siamese.

You told me you have cancer.
You told me you would live to see my kids graduate.
You told me you were angry when I married the wrong person.
I told you a ton of things too.

I sat in the waiting room.
I read the busy-work-journals.
I learned how to create gingerbread snowmen from the better homes and gardens.
You took your chemo like a soldier.

We wait for the doctor to divulge disconcerting discontent.
We watch malicious pigeons peck at pieces of parchment.
We laugh at the myriad of miniscule mediocrities.
We are inseparable, almost siamese.

I love you like a relative.
I need you in my space and time.
I find you very interesting.
You are a friend of mine.

You poke me in the belly.
You pat me on the back.
You helped me understand me.
When I was going through hell.

We are distancing from the honesty.
We are consumed by illness and regret.
We nearly lost sight of the far away things.
That most people tend to forget.

Learn more about this author, Jeremy Robertsen.
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