feeling unsure
how I'm supposed to
respond—
when I hear
the news
that a casual
friend's pet has died,
the stubbornest way—old age.
Just me, sitting
in my kitchen, poignantly not
sipping coffee, as if thinking—
you never really
beat these
sorts of things,
exactly. You only
become them, one
by one, your hairs gray, you take
on their features—
until gradually,
nobody asks
how you're
feeling anymore
(is the camera still zooming?)
because its so
painful-
ly obvious.
beat these
sorts of things,
exactly. You only
become them, one
by one, your hairs gray, you take
on their features—
until gradually,
nobody asks
how you're
feeling anymore
(is the camera still zooming?)
because its so
painful-
ly obvious.