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jonny-bolducPoems
I have friends who went, to Bethlehem, to Paris, to Spain. Left for London, Beachy Head. Those friends came back, back to Halifax, Portland, Bangor– My friends go. They go to the bar for a pint. They go to the South for the summer. They go to plant trees in Alberta– The friends who go are the friends who went. But I have friends who are gone. Friends who are gone cannot go to the bar, to the South, or to Alberta. Some friends have left– through some door, in the night, in the day, in a car, on a bed, on a stretcher, in the street– and yes, they are gone. Where will I go when I am gone? Will I be with my friends? Perpetually traveling to the South, to Alberta, to the bar for a pint? No. I will not go. I cannot go, once I am gone. When I go, I will be gone. I could go anytime, night or day, In a car, on a bed, a stretcher, or street– Yes, I could go. And when I go, when I leave– I will be gone. So, Friends who have gone where I cannot go, they must know– that we all will go, we all leave– soon, yes, soon. Now, in the pause between moments, in the quiet space of a last breath– we all are gone.
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Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
Gone
I have friends who went, to Bethlehem, to Paris, to Spain. Left for London, Beachy Head. Those friends came back, back to Halifax, Portland, Bangor– My friends go. They go to the bar for a pint. They go to the South for the summer. They go to plant trees in Alberta– The friends who go are the friends who went. But I have friends who are gone. Friends who are gone cannot go to the bar, to the South, or to Alberta. Some friends have left– through some door, in the night, in the day, in a car, on a bed, on a stretcher, in the street– and yes, they are gone. Where will I go when I am gone? Will I be with my friends? Perpetually traveling to the South, to Alberta, to the bar for a pint? No. I will not go. I cannot go, once I am gone. When I go, I will be gone. I could go anytime, night or day, In a car, on a bed, a stretcher, or street– Yes, I could go. And when I go, when I leave– I will be gone. So, Friends who have gone where I cannot go, they must know– that we all will go, we all leave– soon, yes, soon. Now, in the pause between moments, in the quiet space of a last breath– we all are gone.
jonny-bolduc
Written by
jonny-bolduc
American
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
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