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Wednesday
Mar072007
Found it
March 7, 2007
I wrote this poem for my best friend, Dori, who I badly missed at the time (still do, actually) and who I went through highschool with and had been living with right before I moved to San Francisco. It's hard to believe it was seven years ago. She is a heart friend, a gift from God, and although we've stayed friends and still visit and talk, our lives have grown to include so many other things. (Like husbands and children.) I've always loved this poem, because I wrote it in one of those rare moments when I could say just exactly what I needed to say.Â
***
no one else calls me John.
i would love to share this now with you
slice of today, taste of chocolate
yellow cup of coffee in my hand. these new boots
that you have never seen, foreign piece of
mandarin skirt (colour, not
chinese) [you like this skirt] wrap in the
mail- the post irregular, we don't talk
into the night like we used to
(my hair is gone.) Â i cut it off because. well,
because you're not around when I wake up
anymore ["this is the look i'm going for"] and because
no one else calls me John and i somehow needed
to do something (to take the edge off of missing you)
to dull my resistance to these new things. to believe
again, the things you used to tell me, yellow cup after
yellow cup of coffee in the garden at night
[our spot, my friend]
on the porch sometimes people joined us and sometimes
we sat alone under the trees or
by the house in the light
singing nonsense medleys into the blue.
***
no one else calls me John.
i would love to share this now with you
slice of today, taste of chocolate
yellow cup of coffee in my hand. these new boots
that you have never seen, foreign piece of
mandarin skirt (colour, not
chinese) [you like this skirt] wrap in the
mail- the post irregular, we don't talk
into the night like we used to
(my hair is gone.) Â i cut it off because. well,
because you're not around when I wake up
anymore ["this is the look i'm going for"] and because
no one else calls me John and i somehow needed
to do something (to take the edge off of missing you)
to dull my resistance to these new things. to believe
again, the things you used to tell me, yellow cup after
yellow cup of coffee in the garden at night
[our spot, my friend]
on the porch sometimes people joined us and sometimes
we sat alone under the trees or
by the house in the light
singing nonsense medleys into the blue.
in Poems
Poems 
Reader Comments (6)
That brought a sudden tear to my eye. And lots of memories of overhearing those silly medleys that made me laugh. I miss those days. and I need to call her.
Heart friends are the kind that always stay close-even when you move far or lose touch. Great poem...invites me to remember sweet friendship and fellowship.
How wonderful. That poem is like chenille socks on a weathered wooden floor in front of a woodburning fireplace. Home with movement.
I wish I had such insight when I was 26. 15 years later I still wish I had it. I wish I lived near my best friend. It's hard to break into a new city crowd. I'm doing my best to be ME...I hope that when I meet all of ME, I'll be on my way to making a friend for life. Thanks for sharing.
Thanks for that. Reminds me of my old friends too.
i just about wept too,
it's a reminder of the many friends along the way, and a joy to see your happiness and love shared, How majikal it must have been for Dori an you to venture on the journey together and stay connected, your memories are vivid, hold them dear and dori is near...
Your peom reminds me of how important unconditional love is...
Sister River Giver, forgotten for so long, Sister river giver, rise up and sing your song,
~sasha butterfly,
Sisters are so sacred, we provide eachother with so much comfort and support which can enable us to become fully activated mothers and partners,
its never to late to start your day over,
its never to late to pick up the phone,- michael Franti
peace re,
Lovely. thank you.