Friend

An exchange. 1 that floats through the air Like waves of light from sister stars. That shoots between 2 people like neuronal pulses. Kind of like love. Not a love like fresh coffee spilled in the lap, that burns into your heart and sears into your soul, but the kind of love one has for their best friend, A mother for her child, A lover who you WANT to wake next to. But love is such an odd, odd word. I love my friend, I love to sleep. I love to learn, I love to eat. But what I feel for my little girl Has nothing to do with what I feel for bacon. Yet love is the word. It is a Caterpillar Bulldozer and a wisp of silk. Pulses of electrons and neutrons floating through the air on words sometimes so heavy they would sink the largest of sailing ships. Are you my friend? Just an acquaintance? My best friend? Do I even know you? It’s something far less than blood but greater than a mere shared moment. But when that shared moment is done, and life's traffic begins to clear, I will sit in my Honda and watch you pass. Your ear buds in either ear, your hands up on the wheel of your little beige car. Your mouth jawing that dry, hard, flavorless lump of formerly minty goo. You will lean forward lip syncing to that song on the radio. But we had a moment. We were more than flashes in the history of a third cooling rock outside of the expanding warming star. We had a moment that you can never share with another. And even if it was only just me, no one can ever take our moment from me.