Fool’s Friend


I’m searching for a friend

I used to have one but I think I lost it

I’m scrambling up and down

Looking in cabinets and in dish racks

I even pulled out my book of faces

And scanned desperately through the pages

Of faces looking up at me

But I couldn’t find my friend

How can this be?

Just yesterday it was smiles in the hallway

And secret inside jokes

But now it’s just a face in my book

And a memory that grows dimmer every second

Was it ever real, my friend?

I’m desperate, throwing everything out in my search

My goals and dreams lie on the floor in a pile

Ignored in my quest to find a friend

And at the bottom of my drawer of desire

I see a glimmer and I pounce and grab

But it’s a false alarm, a fool’s friend yet again

Where are you friend?

I have been calling out for you

But maybe you don’t understand my language

I can’t find you but I won’t give up

Maybe it was never my job to search 

instead I’ll gather my dreams, hopes and goals

straighten them up and try them on for size

i think I will even go on a trip somewhere

and hopefully I will stumble across you

half buried somewhere like gold




What’s a memory but a moment immortalized in the moonlit mind of a midnight dreamer,
A gem of golden gladness gloriously displayed
Or perhaps a moment of madness mirshed with misery
That stands tall torturous in ones mind as solid and immutable as a diamond by stress formed
But is a memory a gem to be held polished and admired or a deadly shard with which to cut oneself
Is it so solid and immutable?
Or rather is it simply a bubble of iridescence capturing a fleeting moment of sun and reflecting a million rainbows?
Each glance back casting the brilliance of experience upon the fragile moment and seeing the subtle nuance of the bubble sounds dancing in the winds of time
A memory moment so fragile and mutable that the experience of seeing it changes it and the rainbows dance to a different tune.
So fragile that we grasp it, or we try, our desire to know, invisible hands grasping at that moment until they have…then it is gone forever
A burst of air gone and the moment the kiss the words gone forever.
As a bubble bursts and leaves behind air so the moment leaves behind an aching emptiness
Or is memory a river, rapidly running rampart, it’s riotous rage ripping the bank and rising to the present
The inundation seeping through everything and overwhelming now and sweeping everything to the past
Or maybe a mountain, an obstacle obstructing openness and overshadowing opportunities opening up
or maybe, maybe the past is a mystery madly made magnificent or maybe a mirror