Old Friend, New Star

In your first lead role, old friend, new star,
does the thought of mediocrity make you care
less for those of us still stuck in Munising,
drinking cold Labatts around a dwindling
fire, our undone lists confettied to death?

Picture this: We take my father's boat
at dawn—no risk—everyone is dead
asleep. To the east a glossy spread
of lake reflects an orange dome. It floats
parallel to us at first, then breaks
into a full-fledged sun. Right then,
I would have done what you have done.
Had someone whispered in my ear, Come on,
right then, old friend, I would have gone.

Copyright © 2003 Ben Gunsberg All rights reserved
from By Chain, By Stair, By Rope,
The New Michigan Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission