He told me I needed better friends,
as if friends could be taken in sackfuls
back to the Store of Chance Meetings
and exchanged for new opportunities.
I imagined the cashier’s look of disdain,
her outdated glasses. Too many customers
rushing in and asking for a refund.
Today, a man in short sleeves and a tie
came in and begged for a lifetime supply
of their stock. She must have pointed
her laminated nail at the laminated sign:
You Already Got It!!
I didn’t want to say that
my friends had long ago hiked down
from the mountain of my faux pas,
shaking the clumpy mud off their feet,
their pockets full of leaves.
Some of these leaves must still be green,
wax-bright and filmy. Even if bitter,
they will sing when held up to a buzzing mouth.