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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.
Copyright ©
Anais Vionet
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