The Message is the Medium

My friend tells me

it's been nice 

knowing me all these years.

With a pat on the arm

he says I've

been a good sport

and even

pleasant company.

That's how I know

he's just recalled

         the date

and like last year

and the one before

has forgotten

to get me an 

anniversary gift.

The surface child

acquisitive me

never fails to be 

disappointed; yet

      somehow their

belatedness and haste

doesn't make the words

tripping hopefully

from his familiar mouth

sound any less sincere.

He sincerely hopes

I won't strike a

        tragic pose of

           benign neglect

weep tears of self-pity

like last year.

Strange how some things

never change.         Odd

how we never 

seem to learn.        Nice

that life goes on

any old how.

c.1979