Two Old Friends Poem by RIC BASTASA

when we were children
we were already friends
in the middle of our own poverties,

we struggled to rise from the lowest
echelon. Years passed. And now

we see each other again.
His fingers are filled with diamond
rings, as big as a fist of a child.
His coat is expensive.
Everything in him is expensive now

His car. A picture of his beautiful wife.
A corporate lawyer too in the
city. He will be taking the bill
tonight in this expensive restaurant.
The finest wine. The exotice cuisine.

As usual, I will do the talking,
as always, since then, he had
always been on the side of silence.

Ask him to tell a joke, he says
he has none. Ask him to tell a
story about himself, he says
there is nothing nice about
his past. Ask him about his
present, he says there is nothing
worth talking about himself.

He has all the secrets hidden
inside his silent gazes. He smiles
to every story that i tell. He
likes my company.

Inside my mind, i could have
asked him: how many persons
have been killed in your name?
How many assets are taken
mercilessly from the hands of
your economic foes? What
brain is this that keeps on
acquiring and scheming and
killing who obstructs his way?

He is my friend, as always and
i do not have the right to ask.

The night is over. It is time to
go home. We are on separate cars
now and he tells me, 'take care! '

Sometimes, i ask myself if i understand
what life is all about really. I am home,
And i decided not to preach,
even to myself. I honk the car,
and the gate opens.

It is 3 o'clock
in the morning.