My Friend Yanzi

Taken by circumstances and not by dreams; Blown by winds adrift on just any stream; We grew up together and were the best of friends; but after high school, he disappeared, drifted away. Yanzi went with the flow, never planning where to go. He did not care, and where he was headed, he didn't know. Boarding a bus along the Mexico Gulf, he went north to Chicago. A job here and there, he proceeded north to southern Wisconsin. Yanzi's stay in dairy land was brief. So, he returned to Windy City. Like drift wood, he floated from town to town. Home was where he roamed. From the Mid-West Metropolis, Yanzi felt pulled to return to the Gulf. He was never attracted to the eastern sea board, but the west came calling. The years passed very fast; nothing would ever last; even Yanzi was aghast. Now past his prime, never thriving; barely surviving in the city by the Bay. Yanzi, quiet and easy, a loner and not even a dog he ever had since just a lad. Up and down the Pacific coast for 30 years till finally, the drifter, Yanzi passed. 090822PS Fiction