So she smiled, Darling,
and it was like she had
plaster cheeks:
her lips curved up
but the rest of her face
didn’t move.
And her eyesbrows
were an inch higher,
almost on top
of her forehead.

Said she’d been
at a spa all winter
if you believe that
line of crap
I have a swamp in
Florida with potential
that should interest you.

Well, I told her
she should stop lying:
we all know
she’s had work done —
it’s obvious.

She didn’t speak
to me until —
and she tried to
line up my friends;
well, they weren’t
taking sides,
but they stopped
speaking to her.

That all changed
a week ago:
she called to tell me
life is too short.
Wanted to make up.
Told me her husband
has stage three cancer.

Wonderful, isn’t it
how death
focuses the mind?

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wordcurrents/ Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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