i am not scared

my old friend michael

goes way back

good times

in our foolish and fun youth

we even had the same girlfriend

at different times

pamela the lovely artist

we went to canada in my old ford

thinking to duck the draft

but canada didn't want us

anymore than we wanted 

vietnam

we smoked a lot of weak pot

drank a lot of cheap wine

read a lot of watts

and explored the cosmos 

in our own careless way

michael the poet

50 years later

laying on his death bed

disappearing before our eyes

his wife distraught

i held his frail hand

he said "thank you richard"

in a voice already from another place

only a few words left

from his poets heart

"sorry to see you go michael"

and i asked him

"michael michael what is it like?"

far off, the voice said

one last thing to me

"i'm not scared"

before leaving him for the last time

i helped him walk his frail body

back to his bed

there he raised his thin arm 

pointing to the sky

pointing maybe to the mystery

that he could sense

but that we cannot know.