you treated me to lunch, a spaghetti place.
We had never been so kind to each other.
When you said I’m still a slob we laughed.
After lunch we stood in the parking lot.
You said, You have the last word
but I said, No, I’m tired of being
the one who sums things up.
You get the last word.
But you couldn’t think of one.
So off you went to our silver car,
I to our red one.
It’s three years later.
And even that’s just a story now.
Lately I don’t feel as if I lived with you.
But I remember our kindness that day,
when it no longer mattered.
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