soup

zebras
micah still has all the same posters from college.
“getting them framed cost a fortune,” he says.
is this what being an adult is to him?
although, to his credit,
there is one thing hanging above his television
that i don’t recognize.
it’s a picture of a zebra outrunning a lion.
micah says he’d always wanted a picture of a zebra
and hadn’t even noticed what the zebra was doing,
will always be doing.
the only thing he saw in it:
the zebra looked like it didn’t want to be photographed.
he’s still waiting on the frame to come in.

lately, i’ve been putting myself in situations like this,
spending less time making new friends
and more time catching up with old ones.
i don’t know how well i do with either of them, frankly.

we sit down on his new living room set
and have a drink.
then, we talk for a little while.
he says this:
“adam, i don’t think i’ll ever be able to accept death.
sure, i can look forward to turning into a wonderful old man,
to knowing myself and what i know inside and out,
but everything after that is going to be horrible for me.”

i nod, but only because i feel the same way.