For my Best Friend on her Birthday

We two at my 50th birthday celebration on Molokai

Cathy and I met when we were fifteen and sixteen years old. We clicked immediately and have been tight ever since. She is fierce, intelligent and a savvy businesswoman, always supportive of me, my penchant for poetry and various endeavours, including my son, her godson. She is precious to me and during this arduous Covid time we’re reminded never to take anyone for granted.




I often wonder about her,
my soul sister,
often on the other side of the world,
her roiling mind, her great girlish heart.

My sister in wildness,
hoots and laughter here in my ear
no matter how far she may roam.
Her mirth, her spirit, boost.

She’s ascended through more clouds
than most mortals and certain avians,
roamed continents, I vicariously thrilled
or at times boarding the flights together.

We are content in each other’s company,
however distant,
witness to each other’s parade of lovers,
cavalcade of wrath and sorrow.

She is with me
after school, raiding the refrigerator,
fighting my little sisters
or her big brother for the stereo or TV.

No matter how far she may roam
she is with me,
careening down misty country roads
at two in the morning,

dodging skunks and lost heifers.
She is with me drinking tequila
when no one else did,
because no one else did.

She is with me
at every wretched event
that paltry town hosted.
She is with me

dropping acid in Hope, gathering shrooms,
slimy goop by the time we arrive at the bar.
She is with me,
sneaking into the house past curfew,

bribing the cocker spaniel with cocktail wieners.
She is with me,
thumbs out,
riding endless summer BC highways.

She is with me. I won’t let her go.
More kin than kin
we feed off each other,
each return to each other a return home.


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