(For Peer Haagensen)
When I impune the motives of my friend
I make aas though his meaning's all in me
Yet if he means to catch a scruple's end
And, quartering, distill it, friend he be.
When I expect a selfishness in him
I judge him by my shallow sordid side
Yet who stands no on animals tanned skin
That blunts the world's sharp hardness with it's hide?
His friendship is both selfish and selfless
For, in his hug, hugs me and hugs him through
Such generous embrace of loneliness.
Thus shares it with the care friends put him to
For after grasp I feel his shoes are mine
And then I konw the glow of being kind.
Nik Habermel, August 1998