An Eighty-Year Joke
And there's so little time to / even consider it with all of the / living we need to take care of.
I was just watching you
across the room -
knitting harsh lines
in your beautiful face
rowing taught shoulders
over your work desk -
and I started to ponder
how absurd this all is, how
you and I have been plucked up
from the universe and animated
for a moment, tragically aware of how
fleeting it is, and now we have to
decide for ourselves what it means.
And there's so little time to
even consider it with all of the
living we need to take care of.
But it's funny: today, the thought
of my own impermanence
keeps biting at me like a bug.
So I keep thinking about asking
if you'd like to walk outside
with me right now. We could
rediscover how wonderful it feels
to amble around in peak daylight,
or wander to a baseball game midway in,
or tread the sticky floors of a dive bar
way ahead of the evening crowd
and take swigs from frosted glasses
until it all doesn't feel so serious.
Of course, I'm not serious -
I can't just take the soft
palm of your hand and
lead you out the door
this instant.
Not with all the
living we need to take care of.
Caroline Warner (she/her) is a writer and editor based in Boston. She holds a B.A. in writing from the University of Vermont. You can find her on Twitter @carolinexwarner
