Friends; or, I’m Buying You Coffee

One friend to another
A tent, a triangle
We lean in
A brace
Palms pressed, backs flat

We could be here all day or just
A moment
I will not move

Tense and compress
A false divide of equals
drives an understandable,
unproductive pain

For what is suffering but breaking?

So I reach in first
I grasp the divide
with clean, comforting fingers
I complicate its set
and sow doubt
Is it truly so?  Is it? I ask, tugging.

One grain removed,
Or the burden entire?
No matter the measure, as they are the same
Sum of parts

We make progress.

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