The thing about middle age is you see what’s coming for you.
He smells of stale PE,
she vibrates with story,
and the news is talking of war and gasoline.
She slides into the car,
telling me already that she has decided to be weird
and Sol has decided to be a they
and can I please turn off the news.
In the mirror I see a fight brewing in him,
so I ask--
How was your day?
another day of hurts,
but also of Jackie Robinson and trampoline classes and grasshoppers,
and of wondering what it means to have depression.
While living in Mexico, I joked that speaking Spanish forced me to be far more Zen about life: Since I could only speak in the present tense, I was forced to just live in that present tense.
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