a lifetime ago
I learned my first lesson in the geography of my world
from a friend who passed me a note in class:
        We are here,
        but I can’t be there
        for you
        I have new friends.

no matter where I’ve been
friends walk
        off the edges of my map
or jump
   or are flung
as though we’ve spun and spun on a playground carousel
            and one by one
                we let go

I don’t know where most of them land
we send memes instead of letters
        to save on the cost of friendship  
I know them by their avatars

Learning names of a new friend’s spouse or children takes me months
then one of us moves
then one of us moves on

we dust off our backsides, our hands
I mark the place where my feet struck

I drop a pin on my map