sos?

in sicks years
no, sev-
in
it hadn't happened to me once
so when she
went for the waste
basket
it caught me off guard.


'twas a good run, son
but
"It's over now."
and somehow I feel cheap
in a silly sort of way
dethroned of some personal
statistic I prided myself
on reciting to myself.

I guess--
I can't
blame her
though. At least it didn't hit the floor
not that I'm one
to fear the Old
Testament

just the subconscious:

"I had a dream we were in junior high
and you were on crutches
so I'd help you get around
but you didn't really need them,"
wiping the corners of her mouth.

rolling over
I ducked under the covers, swearing
I'd take out the trash
that day
assuming I'd be getting out
of bed
after she left.

(why bother?
there are books, there are books!
right next to you waiting to be
red.)