what a friend is
a mail that pops up
with warmth and kind words and a round surrounding smile
right in the middle of a busy afternoon when pictures don’t want to leave
your outgoing mail and x calls saying she cannot come if we can postpone and
the door of the neighbor slamming with your sudden remembrance of a heavy
stomachache and the catalogue to be at least briefly read before 4.30 p.m.
and the other article to be started - piles of papers to correct
a coffee
and the list of things memorized in the air like movements you do not have
to
unless you did this first
and you quickly go through the mail
and let it be buried by other mails, the urgent ones
but you anyhow feel better as if to your cage another rib was added
and finally in the evening
when all doors have been slammed and articles sent and the pictures need
only to be canceled from the archive all coffees drunk
you remember that mail and you go back to find it and you read it again and
you write a poem for it
because it is a friend
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