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We haven’t spoken in a while,

But you are not forgotten, you

Know that, how could you be,

When the inner monologue,

The constant play of allusion and forgetting

Inevitably leads to you

Friend for fair and foul weather.


Our age is so superior –

Liberated, emancipated, yet cannot

Conceive of love in any form

But sex.  Its dirty Freudian mind

Staking a claim in mental space

Has turned to children, our future

The price gladly paid for an erection.


The ancients thought friendship better

They wrote about it a lot –

And it is true in some ways

That a friend is better than a lover.

A lover wants us to be beautiful and clever

And putting us through our paces,

If we jump too slowly, will tire.


A poor performance means they are

At fault.  Inadequacy is unacceptable.

Better, while there’s time to act

Better a messy divorce, the courts

The children aphasic, better by far

Than languishing in the same bed

Desiring another.


A friend wants you to be beautiful and clever

Because you are.  Working through the heart

He sees the soul.  Friendship is a welcoming a home

Coming.  Love is an easy word

To drop. Let me say affinities.

In affinities there is fine

Finitude, finesse, infinity, refined

All these can encompass friendship

Not define it.  It can only be lived

Like cricket or art or sex;

Though unlike the above, it cannot,

In any of the possible worlds,

Be a solitary pleasure.


So let us raise a glass

To friendship in all its guises

To companionship, camaraderie

Cronyness, matyness, to chicks with chicks

And guys with guys, locker-room pals:

Each in its way a small parcel

Of a potential better world.
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About abecasper

Abe Casper is a South African author, poet, lecturer and translator. 1970-74: B.A. U.C.T. Majored in English and Philosophy. Abe is bilingual in English, French also speaks and writes Italian and lives in Cape Town. Read more on
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