Friends on the Go
for Donald Lev
My friends and I walk nightly
into and out of the miasma,
tangled up in our own foolishness.
The little fish dart between our legs,
and we love them
for their silver slides.
In daylight, we listen to new jazz
and Gregorian chants as we go.
Friends are gold coins
dropped into each of our pockets,
deep pockets with sensitive linings.
Each buys a round for the others
and when my turn comes around,
I raise a glass to toast the times ahead.