Long ago, young on Fayetteville’s grand hill,
they were married. Russell played football. I
wrote about him for the old Gazette, while
Susan studied English; my poetry
received her nod, an urge to keep writing.
After college, hustling to Little Rock,
they found me married, resumed our living
as close friends. Our daughters bonded. Booze blocked
the way then. Russell and I got lost. They
filed to end it. Tossing touch with all, I
went north, got sober. Back years now, I stay
alone. This week, learned Susan had just died
of cancer. Then today found out, to deep-
est sorrow, last year Russell passed in sleep.
Roger Armbrust
January 25,
2013
