OF LASTING VALUE
(To K.B., a friend)



Someday you’ll be gone:

to a better job,
to a woman with soft arms and disposition
who doesn’t believe in friendship.

Or simply get-up-and-gone.


But there will still be

a bottle of cider,
a plate of macaroni ’n’ cheese,

airplanes,

Ney, Wittgenstein,
Tolstoy,

and even
the sleepy golden storm.