come evening

i often write to my friend

an on-going conversation

dating back half our lives

the first exchanges 

on stationary and long-hand

thoughtful, witty letters

now, more terse

the internet does that

she's away

and the urge to type 

is strong

yet, i have nothing to say

and say it badly

~

were she available

i would write news of the day

i might highlight 

the opening of the obama center

in chicago 

the hope and joy

the music

the celebration of life

the stark contrast

with the cage-wrestling

and monument building 

the dark night of the nation's soul

we do that to each other

express the discomfort

~

i might write of

the heat and humidity

weather being 

the fall back topic

but relevent

i might recount

the mundane

the dryer stopped working

with a load of sheets

now 

hanging in the fading light

of day

i might share something

of pain

~

i might write 

of a book i'm reading

ask what she is reading

how the change of meds is going

the stuff of age

and disbelief

it is true

i have little to say

it is also true

that the words don't matter

as much as the reaching out

the i'm ok

hope you are too

the i'm thinking of you

~

i would come

to that part of the email

the closing

reluctant 

to end the conversation

the hollow silence that follows

the aloneness

the unwritten and unspoken

my dear distant friend

i wish you safe journey tomorrow

and look forward

to reading of your adventures

thinking of you

jim