Wednesday, September 30, 2015
An open letter to a friend
I am sorry it took me three days to text.
You probably thought I ran, like the rest,
seeing the front page of the paper & all the inglorious
mess you made---
It’s what people do.
Afraid of being caught in the shit storm,
pretending they don’t step in their own daily.
I can’t say I condone what you did,
but I won’t leave you alone.
It feels like shit doesn’t it? Knowing everyone
knows your darkest secrets,
because they look away,
stare, point, talk ---
make jokes, laugh ---
assuming guilt, without
ever even asking.
My excuses are no better than your own.
I won’t pretend I wasn’t tempted to let you slip
back into my past.
But it felt too much like leaving the lame
to be devoured by the lions, knowing the herd is safe.
That is the easy way out. That is the shallowness
of too many relationships,
and the press, camped on your street.
It’s fucked up. You fucked up. I can’t imagine
how cold the coffee is on your lips, as you look
across the breakfast nook & lock eyes
with your wife, how your kids
are dealing with this.
With all of this
and what people do.
So text me back, man.