It’s the midnight hour

the moon is alone.

I get a call from my friend

3,000 miles away.

I never thought

we would keep talking to each other.

I was waiting for the tides

to drift us apart.

the bond of friendship,

is like lunar gravity (I don’t know what that is)

We listen to each other

share the past.

There are so many people I don’t want to know.

this open phone line is so different

than the dozens of people I talk to

every day.

Sharing a moment

with someone

is special.

I’ve been with friends

who take it all in

for themselves,

and they are the most outwardly generous.

I try to be generous, but I can’t.

There is something getting in the way.

My friend and I,

used to walk the fairways together

on lonely evenings

when the harvest moon

was big in the sky.

We were only shadows then, with a future

but those golfing days are gone.

We were so young once,

and now,

it’s a new day.

People want to get together

but I say,

“I’m writing a novel.”

and they never ask

what it’s about.