Forty Miles and Counting

–For Dan

I’m borrowing a line from my poet friend
Who probably won’t be transcribing any more travel logs
During the rest of his journey this time round.
Yesterday the doctor recommended he be put on hospice.

I wasn’t at the hospital when this diagnosis was delivered
Nor did I hear with my own ears when Dan,
Looking out across the West Mesa, asked
“Could this be heaven”?

But I know from my own precinct of the human mind
That my friend of thirty years has always noticed
The moods and exhalations of a world that I
Scarcely notice until his enthusiasm points them out.

I’m grateful for his example–for which I haven’t borne the cost–
Of a mind shedding memories and stories,
The many details of daily life unnoticed,
While his love of music and his gift of gratitude held fast.

It’s not that I would give up who I am
Or even pick and choose the parts I’d replace
But having another example of how life can adapt
Has given me a wider road to travel on myself.

As new fathers, both of us surprised that it had happened
(After 50 years wandering in our convoys of one,)
We came to land with two two-year-olds
And met on weekends at the Albuquerque Zoo.

We met because our wives, already old friends,
Both married older men. The four of us
Had breakfast together for decades,
Then supper after you started sleeping later.

We both bought campers and took a few overnights
You losing the role of driver somewhere along the way.
I’ll never forget that the open sky never failed to call to you
While part of me hardly noticed that we had left home.