When I was young
friendship happened
on the street
or the playground
or, if it rained, inside my house
or yours. It didn't exist
in words that 
mysteriously arrived before me
as I sat quietly reading my book
or eating my tea.

The same was true of 
unfriendship.
If you decided you didn't like me
I would no longer see you
on the street
or in the playground
or at my house or yours
and I'd know, 
and that was that.
But it would not arrive
mysteriously before me
as I sat quietly on my bed
late at night.

Unfriendship would never come through
the front door,
uninvited,
and disturb my peace.
It was better that way.