…a friend…
I was about 
to open that door
when I got the phone call. 

I don’t remember anything before that
and I’ve never asked for help since. 

My head started to tic 
like a jumping bean, 
like a glitchy video,
like a gull-durned dirty bomb ’bout to go.

I thought first to protect the kids.
The kids said, “We don’t share.”
I said, “Are you invincible?” 
The kids said, “Bro, go away and let us play.” 

Then I took to the elders. 
I talked with them of luck and free will. 
They fed me sweet breads iced with cinnamon and fate.
“These are brief times, mostly happy, swirling in mystery…”

…a friend…

Afterwards, I could say goodbye without feeling my everything churning and grinding unto itself and onto the floor and out of the door and into the street to await a thing without attention or intention.

I imagine this story continues long after we go home for the night.