A Poem
ModMarilyn
"Hey sista, what's happening?
How you doing today?"
We'd stay on the phone with nothing to say,
Or we'd spill every peeve and annoyance and vice.
We'd tell it and we'd heard it, more times than twice.
We'd argue religion and politics then hang up the phone.
We could have opinions at odds, but I knew I wasn't alone.
You were my sounding board and critic, brutally honest to the fore.
Fragile in health, but friendship solid to the core.
You lived in pain but somehow smiled, pushing on and enduring through it.
You'd correct my spelling and grammar, saying, "My smart fried, you are a nitwit!"
ModMarilyn, my stylist, my newscaster, consiglieri for advice.
You gave your opinion always, no regard to sugaring it with nice.
You'd say, "Hey sista, what's happening there?"
And I'd settle for an hour or two in my chair.
A chat with my dear comrade, Marilyn, putting all in align.
My check-in, my critic, my therapist and dear, dear friend.
The hollow is heartfelt. You will be sorely, bitterly missed
...until we meet again.
With love,
Cristina Tiliakos