Dead Friends 

My friends died one day. 

They forgot me in the their junk yard minds, 
like the pea yellow-green Pinto in the used car lot 

They'll come to their phone, once in a while, 
if I call, or if they need a favor. 
For now I have taken my fine hat, 
my memories, and bad education, somewhere else. 
And they, materialists, with no faith 
in anything, existing or not, 
they'll depart unhumanly, oh yes they will. 
For friendships, I believe in heaven, a nirvana, 
but not this one, it's dead, forever unrepairable. 
They will never enter nirvana themselves---but if they try 
I'll be waiting, raising my middle finger like a punk, 
to confirm our friendship....dead. 

Well---let's talk about our grief here upon this earth, 
where I no longer have friends like them, 
I was never their type, 
though I wish they would have been mine. 
What we had was a porcupine's friendship, 
we kept our distance, 
trying not to get too intimate, 
but two of them did 
and that spewed all hell, jealousy, and hate. 
They never fought over me, 
I plagued them with ignorant love, 
they never patted my back, 
there was never a "Good job, well done". 
No, my friends faced me unfairly 
with less attention then I needed--- 

                            ---Pablo Shanahan