I Hope That You Moved

What a fucked up morning.
And that is a word I rarely use
especially in print like this
but the morning isn’t bad;
it isn’t terrible;
it doesn’t just suck.
No.  This one is fucked up.

If you don’t like these words
I’m sorry.
But the would be poet,
the would be wordsmith
has no other words to use.
But then, after all
aren’t I supposed to be
choosing the exact words,
the exact phrase
to make the message clear.
To invoke the feelings
so everyone understands
exactly what I am trying to say;
trying to convey?
Then listen close.
What a fucked up morning.

Michael Mathews
10:25 am Tuesday
It must be at least close to home

Note:  Yesterday I spoke with an old friend. . . damn it.  Let me stop there. 

Friend is such an inadequate word here.  From those days, we were more than friends.  He and a few others were so much more.  I won’t try to explain that here, but just say we were together for a couple of years in a place we didn’t want to be and forged a deep friendship/brotherhood that endures to this day. 

I spoke to an old friend that I hadn’t talked to in a while.  Found out that he has leukemia.  We spent about an hour on the phone until he just wore out from talking.  <input bad words here>.

This morning I decided to call some other old friends from that time and give them the news as well as to just touch base and renew old friendships.

The first call I made was to my best friend and roommate from those day, Gary.  I haven’t talked to him for a while but not all that long.

Gary’’s phone is disconnected.  Not a good sign. 

I have been using Google to see what I can find.  All I can say is that I hope he just moved.

Mid 60s are not good years for news of old friends.