Might As Well

Fifteen years past love swung down from its candy-apple tree and took hold of us both by each ankle. You wore high heels like Cinderella, they were uncomfortable but were bedroom perfect. The hotel was nothing fancy, just glitzy enough. Fifteen years on we are still alive, old folks sickness notwithstanding, all perfectly situated near a local Hospital. Fifteen years from here we may be moderately wealthy. I have seen the ‘moderately wealthy’ they often are not so ideal, but their financial cushions are perfect. Maybe we will be divorced or dead, perhaps not even nearly wealthy; our worn out cushions wearing thin. Every once in a while perfection, like a circle comes back again to fluff-up our hopes. It’s good to be here getting on each other’s nerves. I mean if we were not here being so perfect we might as well be at Walmart shopping for shoes or something - I dunno.