There it lay,
In the tray.
At the end of my meal.
I did not know how it would make me feel.
Actually, I had not even given a thought to it, in my grieving,
That this would be something the waitress would be leaving:
A single fortune cookie.
Always before, in this restaurant, there had been two.
Two.  The most beautiful word in the language, now that I must rue
That I am back to being one--by myself--the recipient of this to view:
A single fortune cookie.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I had not seen one of these--
A single fortune cookie--anywhere, in over five years.
To see it now, so unexpectedly, stirred my prayerful pleas,
And started up my tears.
To see a single fortune cookie.  For more than five years, I have seen two.
Two fortune cookies, of pre-printed prediction--
Or of simply some little saying or piece of advice.
I always gave my companion, my precious friend, the first selection.
Then I opened the other cookie, to read its words--trite, witty, or wise--
I would look into my friend's clear, bright brown eyes,
And read him what it said.  Then he would read his slip of words to me;
Unless he had forgotten his reading glasses, and I had not brought an extra pair:
Then I would read those few lines to him, and we would smile.
Of course, we knew they weren't really fortunes; but they made us smile a while.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
But not today.  I have only one fortune cookie here today.  He has none.
It reminds me of the happiness we shared, good times, and lots of fun.
And also the problems and troubles that we faced together,
Leaning on each other, strengthening each other's weaknesses.
The heavy feet of time have pressed me to the earth; I feel so heavy-fated.
The blade of death has cut his short life's tether;
He has lost his bounty of blisses.
My words sing hoarse and hollow, unweighted--
Like a dead bird's fallen flying-feather.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I sat there in that restaurant, just staring at that single fortune cookie.
The longer I looked at it, the larger it became;
Till it encircled my heart in a sheet of flame.
In burning pain, I cried: "My precious friend Brian has died!"
The silence was thick as stone.  My ears then heard a strange, blood-chilling groan.
Where was it coming from?  I looked to see.  No one else there.  It came from me.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Then I thought I could hear that lone lonely little cookie speak to me,
Still wrapped up in its clear cellophane.
It said: "Your precious friend, your beloved Brian, is gone from you, for eternity;
And for the rest of your life, you're going to feel this pain."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Where are you, Brian?  Are you somehow, in some way, here?
We promised each other that the first of us to go would be the other's guardian angel.
If allowed to be.  So then, Brian, are you near?
Although your body, the temple of your spirit, is being shipped far from here.
Many States away from where I am.  I cannot visit your grave-site.
But your wonderful inner spirit that I found so dear--
So valuable!  So full of love of life and light!--
Is it possible your spirit is with me here?
I hope and pray that you did not just disappear.
I hope that you can be my guardian angel, or my helper, and be near. 
Or I hope you are in heaven; or that you will be raised to life again.
I myself feel that my losing you is like the early start of hell.
Is it possible that I could have committed so great a sin,
As to deserve this terrible loss and the sorrow that I'm in?
The lone and lonely fortune cookie whispers: You are as lone and lonely now as I.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Precious Brian is gone from me.  He is gone into eternity.
I pray God that I will see him when I die.
But for the rest of my life at least, I must feel this pain.
My solitary soul sees the symbol of my sorrow--
Still wrapped up in clear cellophane:
A single, solitary, lonely fortune cookie.


=======================

Written by Michael LP, aka MLP
aka PoetWithCancer, aka PWC, aka Mr. Poet
Written on Friday, January 21, 2011  6:50 pm
Copyright (C) 2011 by Michael L.P.  All rights reserved