It's nailed to my refrigerator--
a constant thin reminder
of the chances that exist
regardless of the sand.
There's a formal one to follow
this embrace in black and white
with its swooping cursive letters
that sing of my friend's fate.
Ten months stand between us--
ample time for suits and gifts
perhaps a Plus-One venture
if the pendulum swings true
though that's not what it's about.
Selfless joy lays like a rug
in most people who've forgotten
what the Good Book vows on love.
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