Copyright © 2018 by Marvin Cohen

What we used to do is no longer possible
since one of us is dead -- you.
You can't drive me in your car any more
nor I be a passenger therein.
The ingredient was that we needed each other --
spoiled by your death.
Do I blame you? It wasn't your fault
that being familiar together
in friendship's cosy assumptions
is now strenuously ruined
on whose ruin I pour my grief
and stagger alone in disbelief.