*2000-12-02 - 23:06:53*

Things are better now.

My friend in NY who tried to kill himself is home, and doing well. My two friends are no longer in love rollercoasters, they are happy and healthy and good. I'm still here. Going about my business. I'm planing a trip to NYC for April though. That should be fun. Just me, my friends, and that's it. I've been on a lil' bit of a writing kick lately, which is also a good thing. Beats the heck out of therapy. I wrote this 2 days ago. It was just sort of in my mind, and I didn't know what it was, so I went for a walk. This is the result. The poem belongs to me, please ask permission, yadda yadda yadda.

Crystal and I would always go swimming in the cool, clear, clean, pool. She would dive into the water, trying out back flips, front flips, twists, and all kinds of ways to penetrate the water. I would cautiously practice the only front flip I knew how to do. She and I were best friends. She would always dance and laugh on the very edge of the green Astroturf. She never invited me to come unless I wanted to, she cared too much about me.

One day she went off the green and ran on to the edge of the pool. I stayed on the green, telling her to be careful. Then, with freckles framing an impish grin, she dove off the edge, and did a graceful bellyflop into the deep end.

I looked over, seeing her trying to keep her head above what was not water anymore. Then she sank now into the concoction of Jack Daniels, semen, and cigarette butts, beyond my reach.

And then I saw her future.

Dark freckles against sallow skin, a baby suckling at her breast, and her suckling at a bottle. So, I packed up my towels and morals and went home.

She called me twice.

She has been hammered, screwed, and stoned, yet she still remembered my number.

Forced herself too.

Please, never let her forget it.

What do you think? I think it's good. It's based on a real friend of mine.

That's about all for tonight. No opinion of the moment, don't have any right now.