A friend of thirty-eight years
died somewhat prematurely
of slow suicide.

A friend of fifty-years blew a
gasket at him, won’t apologize
and hasn’t a clue

about the middle steps of the
twelve-step program, the ones
where you do a

fearless inventory and admit
your faults and make amends
where possible.

He’s thinking he’s too old for
such shenanigans and things
that make him sad.

He’s done sad, done tragic,
done significant conflict
and he just wants peace

and after a death by walking
in front of a train by his
father when the man

was seventeen and after a death
by cerebral hemorrhage of his
late wife at forty-nine

he thinks he deserves it and,
really, who can argue with
such sentiments?