I lost a friend two years ago. She died
alone, unwell: unwelcome news that stunned
us all, although we know how she defied
most critical advice. Conditions gunned
for her at last: a metabolic bomb.
She never cared enough to love self-care.
Now she’s survived by her demented mom,
and we don’t hear her cackle anywhere.

Her laugh was unignorable and loud,
her narratives too manic or irate.
Embarrassing in any social crowd,
her tones then made me wince. That laugh would grate
on any ears. Her character was kissed
with oddities that now are sorely missed.

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