Poem: Endings
We were adults about the whole thing,
saying the script
learned well from years of practice
and reading with spongy minds.
It — the awful schism — was for the best
as any self-help book,
climbing up the bestseller list
would have declaimed in tones of compassionate smugness.
Yet no one wanted to go
down the lonely path made lonelier
by the essential incompatibility of
two people, flawed and beautiful.
We knew but we didn’t want to know
about what awaits us at the ending
of everything that matters,
or does not.
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