And there are your friends,
Like a warm wall on a summer’s day,
a side of spring greens.
Like pipe cleaners from a party bag
or hot shadows in the long night-
poking in some joy, toasted on sticks
and ready to eat.
Scratch cards and poems and
thick thoughts to cauterize the pain.
And look how they’re fucking glowing.
You can only hope
that you will look so good
in their hour of need.