Friends

So much can happen
between friends
in just two days' time.

One called to vent her rage,
a friend of hers turned cruel,
without warning she's made a mess
attempting to soil the nest.

One met me for breakfast,
in which we questioned the man
who would spend thirty-five million on a painting,
when there are schools without books, people without homes.

One who's been quiet of late called for information,
should her boy play for the team
that my boy may soon be leaving,
and what about that hollering coach?

The first one called again,
this time round, a specter from the past
(a boy to be sure) has moved on,
needed now is a shoulder to cry on.

And then,
one I hardly know
called and talked for nearly an hour
seeking advice about the one who just won't call at all.