Gilbert was a childhood friend
Whom I hadn’t seen for years.
Except for once before he died
And with him bad a couple of beers.

Gilbert, I said, how I envied you
When we were neighbor boys
For you had your own room
And a basement laboratory.

Envy me? Is what he replied.
I used to envy you.
For you got great birthday gifts
And always had something new.

Trips you took and money you had
For a movie or an ice cream cone.
When you had a big meal;
I would be glad for a chicken bone.

One Christmas I remember
I was so very mad.
Our stepfather bought us bicycles
When food we should have had.

We had no turkey that day
Or pork or beef or veal.
But I took my shotgun to the country
And a rabbit became our meal.

You envied me! My gosh.
You were the rich kid on the street!
Your clothes were seldom torn;
Good shoes were on your feet.

The subject was changed;
We had another beer.
I never saw him after that
But he had made his message clear.

Gilbert is dead now,
As is Rachel his wife.
With her, and kids, and grandkids
I guess he had a pretty good life.

jhs