The bad blood of good friends



I'm on another night out, in the local cafe,

with my bestie, sipping wine, nibbling nibbles, missing a mate,

lamenting her absence, scorning her loss, wondering what went wrong,

with her.

But She did post something that was private, about us, set to public

"When it comes to friends, it's not all wine and roses, carrot cakes 

and drunken choruses on a floating boat in the harbour," my Bestie said.

"Sometimes pots get thrown, flowers die and the wine gives you

a bloody headache."

"The boat makes you seasick and there are sharks in the harbour," I offer,

as I am pouring her more sparkling wine. Rose, the pink stuff,

meant for holidays and chatty talk with "the girls".

Not for funerals, and certainly not for a friend

who posted something private, set to public

"Babes can  be bitches," a stranger from another table chimed in.

We looked askance at this someone new.

She drank red. Serious about life then,

or worked too hard, trying to relax on a Tuesday night.

I judged her.

But we smiled and nodded our heads.

"I'm Theresa," she offered her hand to me.

"Like the Saint," my friend gave a gentle retort, an almost welcoming giggle.

There's no such thing as Saints, these days, I murmur to no one.

"Join us," my Bestie says to Theresa and her friend.

And they do.

Blood is thicker than water,

and Friendship is stronger than earth.

We might like these strangers, newcomers, 

the saints who drink red on a Tuesday night.

And we enjoy the rest of the evening,

swapping facebook and insty details, it's too soon for numbers,

they're not Friend friends, yet.

I'm suspicious,

my Bestie is gullible and kind.

I can't wait to get home.

There has been enough earth and water and wine for one night,

and the moon is still on the rise.

It's a pink blood moon...more blood in the skies,

to match the wine of saints and fallen comrades. 


Oh, for the breathe of Heaven, that is my beloved pet bellbird.

I've called her Bunnie and she talks utter nonsense.

we'll sing a song together tonight, me off key,

Bunnie will deliver an aria to me,

lyrical balm for my disappointed soul.

Bunnie's like family to me but a friend... 

you know,    

perfect.



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