I just read Nadja's post on friendship, so I'm compelled to get pretentious and write a poem.

When in the absence of warmer climes

With the good craziness turning to bad

I'll remember you

When one last cigarette for good measure doesn't cut it

With a wicked turn of the plains wind

I'll remember you

When I smell the living spaces of the ancients

With a spot for the moving water

I'll remember you

Hadn't we seen enough of this land?

Never, not maybe

Did what we felt change its compostion?

Never, not maybe

Above the fertile plain

With no sight line between us

I'll remember you