HIS NAME WAS JIM

and one day
he was a paralegal
sitting in a meeting
in his white-collar world
with his bosses to his left and across from him
in a meeting with six other people,
when his secretary walked in
and discreetly whispered to his ear
that somebody named Janie had called
and said that Treat needed to go to the hospital again.
You see, Treat was his good friend
who had tried to commit suicide four times
between the ages of 22 and 28 which was
where he was now.

Treat had enough money to live
and loved his wife Janie
and even his two kids
but he just couldn't shake the feeling
of being empty sometimes.

What Jim didn't know was that after
he said "Thank you," to his secretary
and then went back to his meeting
was that Janie ran around the neighborhood
like a chicken with her head cut off
looking for a ride to the hospital –
and she didn't have the organizational skills
or the right state of mind to know what to do
that day, so Treat bled out through his wrists
and died that day.

Even though Jim didn't know that,
after he said "Thank you"
to his secretary and she left the room
and he turned to his bosses
and said "It's fine."
And they continued their
polite meeting like every thing was fine –
a piece of his heart broke off that day;
it's lower left leg.

Because Jim was not the kind of man
who could turn away from his friends
for a white-collar job and be okay with it.

And when he found out Treat died,
the other leg of his heart broke.
And then when Janie never recovered
and went from one crisis to the next
because she was never the same,
and it was impossible to be a good friend
to someone going crazy
and he had to let their friendship go
the left arm of his heart broke.

And bit by bit the little daily rites
of not being there for his family
or his friends or his grandfather's funeral
broke off little pieces of his heart
Until
the only things left in his life
were the feeling that his life was lacking
and his white-collar job.