He hesitates a minute, eyeing
The script; then reads on. When he's done,
His chest is tight, and he is crying.
It says, Dear John, We have a son.
We hope that you'll be the godfather.
We've called him John. We would far rather
Have you than any other friend.
Please speak to us, John. In the end,
We'll all be old or dead or dying.
My mother died two weeks ago.
We thought perhaps you might know.
Phil and I send our love. Liz. Sighing,
A harsh, prolonged, exhausted breath,
John feels his heart revisit death.
Depleted by his pain, he slowly
Walks to Jan's desk. What did not last
In life has now possessed him wholly.
Nothing can mitigate the past.
He gently touches Jan's sand dollar.
It soothes him in the ache, the squalor
That is his life, and she seems near
Him once again, and he can hear
Her voice, can almost hear her saying,
"I'm with you, John. You're not alone.
Trust me, my friend; there is the phone.
It isn't me you are obeying.
Pay what are your own heart's arrears.
Now clear your throat, and dry those tears."
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