Your Project Deserves Good Words

Aisle of Sweets



Today I imagined your death
The last breath and white linen,
Screens and machines
Pulsing you into a nice sleep.

The wife of my youth
Now one of an old relic,
Yet in this thought, your skin,
Still fair and taught and lovely,
And mine, reaching towards the linoleum.

One of us had to be first,
pioneering futures and heavens
And I'm glad it was you,
For it's never nice to be the one at home
While the other is on vacation.

So I am left to my late walks
New balance sneakers,
White shoe polish,
And making sure the pooch
Gets out to the yard in time,

With half the dishes to do
And half the joy to do them,
Small meals at the tv,
Mostly coffee and the occasional peach,
Wondering who you've met,
And what magic I might be missing,

While I drive the sedan to get dog chow
And walk through the aisle of sweets
Constantly wondering what would sound good to you this time.

But this thought is a daydream,
After seeing an old man jogging
As I drive home to you making dinner,
With a bag of red licorice-your favorite.