written in the book of life

it was a Midwestern lake

circa 1983

we went for a day of fishing


I remember a photo I took of him

in the water,

only his smiling face with a cigarette.


I realize now I loved him

what for?

an ease, a gentleness.


I don’t think we caught a single trout

but the water was cool and refreshing.

the summer’s day basked alongside us,



like so many he faded out of my life.


friendships like that are blessings,

smooth stones that kiss feet as

we ford the river of our time.



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