57

Wish me happy birthday 

I said, grinning,

call me Heinz

like the ketchup,

get it?

He looked at me balefully:

57

that's a make or break year -

I lost two close friends 

the year they turned 57,

both to cancer,

one lung,

the other pancreatic,

both worked-out daily,

athletic as thoroughbreds,

then bang

out of nowhere.

My smile dropped

to the floor

like a dish. 

I thought instantly 

about my brother, 

two years older and battling

metastatic melanoma

for the last two years,

did the quick math,

thought of  

slow death,

life oozing 

away, 

the anticipation

the anguish.

There must be 57 varieties

of cancer

or more,

a lot more.