I want to be removed from the
horrific job of sharing bad news
I want to not tell a friend
the hard truth that one is gone
I want to see them all in memory’s
eternal spring where
cares meant deciding who would drive that day
or whether Ben would cause Mr. Frizzel
to think we were raucous children
who could not tell an acid from a base
I want to tell the whole wide world that
life is short so make it good
and if that cliche is trite,
then what is the alternative?
If I could change my place with him
I’d offer up the dime–or cell phone line
to share the good news of another time
It makes me silly grateful for the plan
I know’s in place
Eternal life with those we love and
friends’ abounding grace.
Word Play 