I, Too, Do Not Want Any Friends For Money Poem by RIC BASTASA

what are friends for?

we meet again
this time, we wear a different kind of hair
mostly grey and lesser in number
balding head, and bluer lips, and
sunken sockets and bony cheeks
ears seem wider and longer
neck a little bit lower
stooping shoulders
and clumsy hands and a memory
that find it hard to name names
and places

we meet again at the ticketing office
of this port
this boat that will take us home
tonight
it is your back facing me
as you are talking to the clerk
homebound
you are homebound
on little packs

i still recognize your voice
but i have doubts
you are that harsh now
impatient and so demanding
it is my turn
and you face me
your eyes are still the same
now turning so friendly

my friend it is you
how are doing?

we hug, we cry,
we shake hands
we speak about the university
we look forward to be back
home to our past

this is what are friends for,
we do not speak about money
we do not have any.....