November 1, 2007
No worries he says. She worries more. What is it for? Who is it from? Who can know when its said and done. He wakes up late forgets to kiss her, she stays out later so he might miss her. Who knows when it’s unsaid, undone. The calls become shorter, notes never written, the days that are longed for the days they were smitten no longer last when life becomes life. No longer does he ask say he’d like her for his wife. She doesn’t care it’s the principal I’d say. An ego, a splinter in the bets they wage.