A friend of mine recently broke up

with his girlfriend of many years.

She had a young son when they met.

 

He had become a loving father to the boy.

But the boy’s mother, as it turned out,

was never really in the relationship

for the long term; other reasons it seemed.

 

I visit him at his place of work

where people who collect things frequent.

Lately, we haven’t spoken of such affairs,

or the ephemera for sale there.

 

He talks to me of his deep sadness

at not being able to see her son again.

Her terms of leaving absolute, harsh.

 

I consider another topic

as a brief distraction  

from his isolation and hurt.

 

I tell him I understand loneliness

sometimes visits in different ways,

and update him on my condition.

 

My body at war within itself

as I sit in a medical center

with tubes in my arms. A solitary struggle

no matter how many people are near.

 

No longer alone in our thoughts,

the conversation turns to lighter themes

as we navigate our damages

with makeshift patches for temporary repairs.