For You, My Friend

I have nothing to give you for your birthday this year. No money with which to buy you anything. No resources with which to make you anything. But then what is new? I am poor. I am always poor. Will always be poor.

As far as money goes.

But never mind all that. You’ve heard me drone on enough about it into the wee hours, stoned beyond need, your husband and I getting into excited discussions about the impending corporate takeover and collapse of the current world order. And you just sit there between us and smile at both of us. Content to just enjoy the company of the people you love.

You were even there for me in the darker hours. Sitting in a sterile white room, flooded with light, waiting to enter the zombie tank. While they poked and prodded for blood samples and mental illness history, you smiled at me and it was just like a squeeze on the hand.

Thank you for reminding me every day to be more like you. Thank you for reminding me how to be wealthy in love. And that wealth, my friend, I will always share with you.