Enough

A dead man lies on my couch.
He breathes but has the outward appearance of a corpse.
This man is not close to me but we are friendly.
It makes me think of what will happen when my friends start to die.
Will I have the privilege,
like my Grandfather did,
of watching all of my own friends pass?
Perhaps it is best if I simply prize them today and
conserve the energy of speculation?
Enough.