Visiting Old Friends at Stoplights
With maybe enough money
to make it to Los Angeles,
I hoped he had enough to stay
ahead of the monsters he knew well.
The ones that had him on the run
somewhere around Bakersfield,
where I last heard from him.
All these years later, with struggles of my own,
I sometimes smile to myself, thinking
I might see him again someday, healed,
while I wait for the corner light to change.
Hélène
Mon 22nd Jan 2024 16:02
Compassionate memory...like sending a prayer to an old friend. Funny what triggers memory. Lovely poem Mike.