THE GREAT TRAIL
OF ALLIANCES
If I said my father knew your father
would you believe me? You'd first
wonder where they'd met. I wouldn't
have an answer for that. There isn't
anything sensible about this marriage.
We knew each other first as children.
Like I always mention - you were
still wearing undershirts, like a boy.
-
One night, it was Christmas or Easter,
(I always mix all these holiday together,
and some Easters are cold, like some
Christmases are warm), the families
met for something, somewhere - one
of those big local confabs, a party or
dance. I watched you all night, but,
how to put it, wasn't into kids.
-
Some years later, I'd changed my mind
and everything was different - and I
noticed you no longer wore undershirts
either; you or those other girls you hung
around with. Mendal, Mabel, and Mary,
I called them, three to your fourth.
-
Then I went away, figuring it didn't
matter; girls were a dime a dozen and
all alike. I moved about some; places
here, and places there, some other towns
and two big cities. Wasn't it a pity, how
I missed your Wonder Years. Remember
that; I think it was a bread commercial
as I was growing up. Eat this fluff, it'll
grow your teeth and bones, make you
tall and rough, have you running faster.
-
What a crock all that was, in colored-orb
wrappings, sold everywhere. I don't know
how we made it to this Hell, but got here
we did. I just gave it all up, and resigned
myself to live - no more, no less, than that.
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