This Is It – A poem

A friend of mine died the other day
His wife was there too
The last thing he said to me was
“This is it.”

He and I grew up together
But he aged faster than me
We worked horrible jobs together
But he worked more

Neither of us joined the war
Neither of us wanted to
We both wasted a decade going nowhere
While we both had dreams of going anywhere

We dated the same kind of women
We both fucked the same kind of whores
The law never did either of us any favors
And favors were something that neither of us ever gave anyone

I was there when he made it big
He didn’t notice when I did
I don’t think he got soft
But I know that he just got old

For every year I aged
He seemed to age ten
The sickness snuck up on you
And you said, “This is it.”

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