"I made a friend today." How absurd. As if like making tea or baking cookies We can plan in the afternoon To make a friend. A feather drifting down from a tree, A friend appears by the pure breeze of coincidence. A rock in the garden, A friend is unearthed by tilling the soil deep. A crashing wave, A friend breaks over and drenches us with possibility. That one bloom picked In an endless field of poppy spattered wheat. We don't make friends; They are born of grace, The divine intersection Of time, of place, and of persons. Ah, yes, once someone did it. And I can't envy a lonely God For stooping down on the river bank Grabbing a hunk of mud And making a friend. As for us, Lonely as we might be, We can never make a friend. A friend is only given, Or taken.
Friends Capacity 4000 pounds or twelve persons; Terrible at quick math, I wondered if I had reached the limit. Who would get off? Perhaps they would swap two lite new ones For one, old, lumbering pain. Maybe I'll just go on alone Or with one or two at most. Would an alarm ring? Would we rise? Would we drop and bottom out Or just stand there waiting? No more time or room to make more, I pushed Lobby. I think it's time we all got off, To visit just a bit. The door will reopen And whoever gets back in, We would all go to the top together.