Adapting

Peter and I are together and we’re in a grove. Time is our treasure, precious and dwindling. I watch for signs of the future unfolding, like a twitch that might be the first sign of a stroke. Answers will come - slowly - or they’ll parachute in from nowhere. We spend a lot of time together but most of it is spent studying. We both have silences that shouldn’t be penetrated. I have so many questions, but I keep them at a safe distance, so I don’t feel the need to interact with them. All I know is we’re alive, and we still have to dance. It's not always fun, operating in the face of uncertainty but what else can we do - except go through the motions? “When exactly did the world lose its collective mind?” I asked, reading the news on my iPad. Peter looked up from the book he was highlighting with a phosphorescent pink pen. “They’ve found toxic metals in CHOCOLATES. Everywhere.” I announced, like that Poe bird. “I guess we’re canceling chocolate then,” he said, sarcastically, “we’ll adapt.” “Yeah, you bet.” I said with genuine irony.