It’s part dream, part afterthought.
All those years, Cupid’s arrows
landed wide of the mark,
struck her friends instead.
And now, at last, one thumps into
her glutenous maximus.
It’s as much time to get moving
as “love has found me at last.”
The guy’s no looker but he’s kind.
He has three grownup children
and a wife who, according to his
sporadic moments of confession,
was the least possible version of a life-mate.
Sure, he drives a truck
but he picks up and delivers locally.
And she still works in the lawyers’ office.
The partners would be lost without her.
It’s an October wedding.
She always associates herself with Fall:
colors in the bloom of their fading,
a persistent chill to the warm.
His company won’t delay winter.
But it’ll change the direction it’s coming from.
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Sheepshead Review, Stand, Poetry Salzburg Review and Red Weather. Latest books, “Covert” “Memory Outside The Head” and “Guest Of Myself” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in the McNeese Review, Rathalla Review and Open Ceilings.
Photo by Marko Blažević on Unsplash
