You are my best friend.
I know it because I left years ago
And every year I came back
And we took off again,
Like fire
As if it could ever forget how to catch.
You are my best friend.
I know it because of that one time
When I took something that I shouldn’t have
And I was listening to one song on repeat,
Shaking and tripping and rocking,
You were the one I called and you came.
You are my best friend.
I know it because when your husband left
For a place that may as well have been across the sea
It was me you asked to come with you
When you followed after him
And I practically sang out, Yes.
You are my best friend.
I know it because the next year
I was packed and ready
So we adventured across the land
Counting buffalo
And screaming songs out the windows as you drove.
You are my best friend.
I know it because no one else
Knows me with such a deep fondness
For such a long, long time
And has served to prove the old adage
That it can be a great thing, to be a writer’s friend.
bohemian.on.rye 