I was three years old when I found my best friend.
Her lines and crosses and curves combined to make sound.
It was wild!
With each year that passed Alpha-beta became better.
She gave me more than I could have ever hoped.
Words: thought, spoken, written …
She demonstrated the love of the feel of a blank page,
which competed for my affections
with the divine smell of a freshly cut book,
all pointing back to that one true friendship with AB.
Like all great friendships, although we immediately clicked,
we were both a little mistrustful of our good fortune.
Well maybe I was, because AB was the belle of the ball …
Everybody vying for her attention …
trying to impress her with their dos, cans and sacrifice …
combinations, at once brave and stupid …
in their desperate reach for wit …
insosophysicalmentimentilysations, spell it.
However, like Elizabeth Taylor’s divorce lawyer,
she kept her cool at our antics.
Because she knew it was just the lure of the new
That sparked all the affection.
But for me, it was true friendship.
And the onus was on me to prove my feelings true,
with no shortcuts, just the slow passage of time
and the courage to always be kind to the lady
who first showed me kindness.
Alphabet showed me the way out of my head
and gave me the key to darker places.
But added a map of lighter places,
drawn with the blueprint of the homes of wondrous fairy tales.
She gave me a free pass to non-existent planes,
That made my personal thought – jumble
seem like the most exquisite of algorithms,
a veritable masterpiece in logical thinking.
Alphabet was so crazy, giving meaning to herself,
she gave meaning to me.
Our friendship through the decades has moved from impressionism,
through surrealism and professionalism.
She always gave me more than she took,
But now she forces me to stare myself down
And confront concrete realism
Of those grey, dark and twisted shadows
that she helped me escape so many years ago
and though fear sweats my brow and terror chills my heart,
I can walk through the murk
and stifle the scream when tendrils of despair lap at my ankles
because on the other side