My Friend

I have a friend
who says he knows
it’ll be a dark day
when he puts his hooded
sweatshirt on backwards.
“It’s dark in here!”

Plays the moment,
hide-n-seek with light.
“Where’s the window?”
It’s a long way through
the darkness of now.
My friend writes it down.

Finds the lesson at last.
Repeated. Not that I ever
put my glasses in the freezer
and wondered blind, and warm.
But not close enough
to find ‘em. And finally.

Recorded now, I see.
We read each other’s notes.
Who gives me sight?
Delight, my friend.
You are a lot like me.
We have our moments.