Friendship staring down at your cold, wet figure I yearn for some acknowledgment of life- a gasped breath, the erratic tap of a heartbeat, the rise of your chest against my fingers. I cannot believe, I will not believe, that you, My Brother, My Guide through the streets of this urban jungle have passed on without me. my mouth pressed against yours tries to push into your lungs a purpose, but those who we would call friends try to convince me of your death. but I would know, my heart would not be breaking, because you are my heart. and as your lungs filled with water and you slipped away to nothingness, my own breath would have been stolen from me. do not leave me to face the days alone without the sound of your breathless voice, hands an expressive counterpoint, or the gentle bounce of your body as you rock on your heels. so if you would just breath and open your eyes, my dearest friend, I would tell you how I found my destiny in the beating of your heart. For the Guide, Zenia Aguilera