We Were Friends
Once joined by explosive laughter,
a disdain for fellow females,
an appreciation for obscenity and vulgar humor –
and now, we’re stuck between two heavy books
pressing all of the fragrant juice
from our wilting, aging petals.
Now, we’re separated by
space and time and bitterness,
grasping for memories fringed with orange happiness,
treasured moments flavored with golden liquor.
And this is what happens when maturity conquers
innocence, experience trumps bliss;
this is what happens when telephone lines are vacant
compared to two bodies warming together in a giant bed,
and laughter, not quite so contagious, counts less than before,
and the spark of friendship, less important than logic and reason,
freezes into the dirty, black snow on the side of the highway.
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