I took a bunch of marbles and arranged
Them in order. Like the smallest one with a little rough broken edge
First and wiped it clean. It was no diamond but had enough
Color to play a game of marbles on a sandpit.
We are all marbles of different colors.
We see color but we don’t understand it. Marbles
Come and go. We lose some to the forces of fate,
We gain some, to serendipity. We learn to live
With some in our heart pockets, the precious ones
That perhaps do not know the exact wave length
Or the articulation of color, but can say
Red is red or blue is blue.
Friendship, where does it begin or end
Perhaps a meal shared after school is a launching pad
Perhaps a cigarette bought at the store
Becomes a custom, but is it all about silver coatings
And not carbon trapped in diamond?
We are all wanderers of fate, seafarers of time
And what matters is the shoulder to anchor, to cry
The clavicle that will break for no reason
The scapula that gives support to another
Shoulder physics is sometimes more important
Than heart chemistries. Shoulder is a harbor
A sanctuary, for one color to know implicitly another
In the profundities of algesic pain.
And through the marble in your pleural cavities
And the shoulders we fall on
We walk through a thorn filled path
And that inevitably becomes our life…..
And friend, is that barmy soldier
Who willingly stays inside the barracks of the heart
Smoking a cigarette called time
And friendship is no fleeting pastime or habit….
Only a narcotic of dependence.