Almost

I am worried for my friend
whose young sister has passed away
and tomorrow is coming

and my friend is coming back
and I'm venting to Big A about how
death doesn't make any sense.

And I'm sitting by his feet in a darkened room
in the middle of the morning, because he's trying
to sleep before he works the E.R. tonight.

And he's stroking my ankles, telling me
that "everybody dies, every body dies--you
know we're walking with ghosts."

My skin prickles surprise, I want to hear it
again until it turns out what he had said was--
"you know that's how it goes..."