For Alex

Your feet are on mine, and I hate it.

You’re talking out of turn, and it irks me.

You’re writing slow, and I’m bothered by it.

And yet.

You were my first friend here.

My first true friend.

The first person I could really talk to.

The first person who really talked to me.

Life tore us apart.

Then threw us together again.

Your feet are on mine again, and I hate it.

You’re talking out of turn again, and it irks me.

You’re writing slow again, and I’m bothered by it.

I sit across from you in class one day

Watching Frosty the Snowman.

It’s our Christmas party.

Christmas break comes and goes --

It takes you with it.

You’ll never write again, and I’m bothered by it.

You’ll never talk again, and it irks me.

Your feet aren’t on mine anymore, and I hate it.