Poem for Friends

--Matthew Rohrer

On someone else’s estate

running through it to avoid

the outdoor wedding there is a grave

in a little copse of trees

so panting we hang out there

How beautiful to lie down

not to be the dead ones there

their eye sockets filled with dirt

nothing is theirs anymore

you pass me a crumpled joint

swaying a little like a poem

while black birds wail in the air

and the commuter train wails

all we have to do is make tacos

tonight and be friends