Good friends once told us
“When you move,
It’s over.”
Like watching ice cream melt
When you carry it
Too far.
I thought it harsh.
But they faded away,
Leaving empty cones.
Friendships are different now.
Digital hugs
With alligator arms.
Everyone is a BFF.
“Forever” becoming
A game of numbers.
I have 203 of them,
Who live in a crowded pool,
An inch deep.
Eating ice cream together
Was better.
I liked the mess.
By Glenn Currie in “Ball of String,” published in 2019 by Snap Screen Press
View Print Edition