For Dave Dwyer

Your last letter four years
Past, I ponder the passage of time,

Sitting, as once we sat,
Drinking bourbon at my parents'

House, on their side porch.
The year 1973, the month December,

We froze as we sipped
The raw liquor and got drunk.

Twenty years gone, I shake
My head, for that seems a long time.

We were young. We are not.
And yet, I call you friend--as then--

Just moments ago.