I lost a friend on the Pacific Coast Highway. 
Intended as a vacation, 
we drove from L.A. to Big Sur, 
a winding drive, 
mountains on one side
the ocean and crashing waves on the other. 
I got a phone call
about my dying aunt.
Some rubber band inside me snapped,
the friendship between us broken
but only for me. 
I tried to rationalize it later; 
I was the one doing all the giving
and all she did was take. 

I don’t guess I lost a friend. 
I excised her with a knife, 
cruel as the waves
being dashed upon the cliffs.