Blood Brother

One hour on the phone tells me
That He is a friend to remember.
A man who listens to what I say
And responds to my words like
A poet. His problems are many
But His complaints are few.
He is… a true friend.

Hard to tell sometimes what
The world is throwing at Him.
But He’s always willing to listen
To me, telling Him, what the world
Is throwing at me, good and bad.
He is the model by which men should be made.
He is… a true man.

Karma seems to suckle at his toes
Licking the smutchz between them
And He reacts by looking for redemption
In the form of an acceptance letter
From an uninterested industry
During a time of recessed serendipity.
He is… a true artist.

He is… my friend.

jb