HOW IT WORKS
It's not just pheromones.
We haven't yet been in the same room,
but her grin irons out the rucks
in my clotted lungs.
The choice she made eight years ago
to be her mother's rest-of-days partner
means we must wait more time
than either of us dare count
and I love her for that clarity.
It's what I would have done
and we know how to milk
what we have. We know
how to love without mad money
or wormholes. Every evening
we dive off the cliff again,
laughing with tears in our eyes
and I click the "end call" button
because she cannot bear
to be the one who does it.
© Maggie Jochild, written 8:43 p.m., 13 September 2011
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