Here you will find the Poem My Friends of poet Terence Winch
for Doug Lang They came here first in a car shaped like a heart and now they depart as brilliant jazz musicians. They arrived in full costume, rolling north through a winter of neon. Now I watch them leaving me in a moonlight of falsettos. They are singing goodbye to me in the echo chamber and I am smiling at them from my king-size window. You get the idea. I was always making way for the others. Now, like an intake of breath, I am beside myself. They tell me that God is inside us and I tell them our fathers' teeth were white with fear. The streets that I used to see from my window have faded away. The birds I used to hear in the trees have fallen on evil days. The beautiful girls who used to wear skintight silver foil now dress in ugly shoes with big square tongues. And the immaculate boys in their red velour are old men who rock their bodies back and forth in grief. But I take comfort in a dreamlike kind of consciousness in which every breath is like my last breath and all my friends are quiet as brides skirting along on sheets of ice.