I’ve always thought that the best friends are the ones
With whom you can comfortably sit in complete silence
And want nothing more.
I told you this once, and you agreed.
An unlikely pair, I’ve often laughed and questioned
Why we work.
Looking at us, it seems so strange.
You with your careless attitude, me the meticulous overanalyzer.
I think we spent a whole year in the safety of your basement
Under the warm glow of
Your red lamp.
At least it’s all I can remember from those days
(I’ve blocked the rest out).
It was our ventilator,
The key to our corporately sought isolation.
We let the world take care of its own problems,
Acknowledging that we couldn’t really fix anything.
Allowing the silence to envelop us,
We survived on dim scarlet light,
Fruit punch Gatorade, and chocolate covered peanuts.
We don’t need the red lamp anymore.
We’ve both made the move out of the basement.
Sometimes I want to go back there, though, and
Close my eyes for a while,
Letting the soft radiance cover my face.
You’ve still got it in your apartment.
You told me once that you’ve never had to replace the bulb.
I take that as a sign,
It will always be there if we need it.