She and He
sat on opposite sides
of a picnic table
silently staring
out across
blue lake waters.
Sun shone bright.
Waves lapped the shore.
Grasses waved in
gentle breeze.
Their silence was
deliberate.
There was
nothing more
to be said.
He was pleased
with Trump
and his leadership.
She was not.
The time was
early summer, 2019.
They’d been married
nearly sixteen years.
Times had been
tough, of late.
The Great Recession
and its slow recovery
had stressed
them greatly.
He saw promise
and opportunity
in Trump’s pronouncements.
She saw abandonment
of nearly everything
she believed in.
His focus was
narrow, immediate.
Hers was broad,
long term,
good for everyone.
Not just a few.
Less than an hour before,
inside their trailer
parked in the
campground behind,
would prove to be
their last moment
of closeness,
the last time
she’d accept
his touch,
the last time
he’d even want
to touch her.
To her, he was
becoming coarse,
inhuman.
To him, she was
unbearably evil,
a liberal,
unapologetically
accepting of filth.
To each, the world
as a whole
needed a
thorough cleaning.
He chose people
to sweep aside.
She pointed to
ideas and behavior
that needed
a rethink.
Two years on,
their distance
has not abated.
And it never will.
He is dead now,
believing to the end
that COVID-19
was “fake news”.
And she?
Does she feel
vindicated?
On the contrary.
She is hollowed out
with despair.
Sun and blue water,
warmth and light breeze,
are devoid of meaning
for her, now.
She has only
motions to go through,
lonely empty motions.
Where, I ask,
where is the
fault, here?
And where are we all
if there is no possibility
whatsoever for
reconciliation?
|
Thursday, June 20th, 2019
Chocolay Township, UP
MI
USA
|
