i’ve had best friends that are now
just people from my past. together
we were going to become rich and
famous. we always dreamed big
dreams. doesn’t everybody until
they realize they are only rich and
famous when they are sleeping?
maybe some of them are rich now,
i don’t know. i don’t think any of
them are famous. i haven’t heard
their names mentioned for twenty
or thirty years. some of them may
even be dead now. john is, he killed
himself. i never thought the last time i
talked to him would be the last time i
ever talked to him again. i used to be
pretty reckless. some of my friends
probably think i’ve been dead for years.
it seems every year i make new
friends. we get to know each other
real well for a month or two then they
would go away and never come back.
like when i was a young boy blowing
bubbles. i’d chase them across the grass
until they would disappear into
thin air. some could say those weren’t
very good friends. i like to think they
got bored and moved on. who could
blame them for that. i get bored easy
myself. if they became movie stars i
wouldn’t know. i never go to movies.
before a movie is over i am wishing
i was somewhere else. movies are
make believe with predictable endings,
like bubbles. if they discovered
a cure for all man’s ills i wouldn’t know.
i don’t watch the news. i stopped
watching the news after the war to end
all wars. there’s been too many wars
since then. some wars never end.
most of the time i want to be at
home sleeping naked next to someone
after some good hard loving. i don’t
dream about being rich and famous
anymore, cures for cancer or war. if you
were wondering what ever happened
to the reckless one, i am a poet content
just blowing bubbles.