Friends Of Friends (Poetry)

You talked about them often — every time
you asked did I remember Dave and Chris,
like permission to continue, a polite yes
brought postcard news, an update on their bliss.

I’d first met them at your wedding, then again
at a party — she was plump and he was tall
or maybe I’m mistaken, it’s been years
and people blur past accurate recall.

I know that they had kids — at least one boy
whose name escapes me but his sudden death
stays vivid as the warning on the van
and tinny chimes that lured him. He left

small knots of love unravelling, as though
some vital cord unwound itself and split
their family. I heard they got divorced,
then nothing. Story over and that’s it.