the widows of pittsburgh

today

some late bills, charity solicitations, raisin bran

for breakfast.

it’s okay, here-

i had to leave there. it was just-

well, this is where the widows

of Pittsburgh go.

11, breakfast endures,

third time through the Pittsburgh gazette,

same sad faces furrowing the same

concerned brow.

three minute loop

doodles our circular

tales in different colored

pens and sometimes capitalized letters.

oh look here,

Sport on the fridge!

55 years, can you believe it?

don’t tell anyone! I just can’t believe we were together

for so long. I must be getting old!

a military collar,

greys and browns smiling back,

what straight teeth.

how long ago did he die again, dear?

through squinty eyes

three longing fingers

check the wrinkled paper

for a pulse,

pressing his chest,

collapsing in exhaustion

over his face,

after years of attempted resuscitation,

or appropriate commemoration.

6 years.

That long? Oh it just kills me.

three minutes pass and

her stare goes blank,

why these fingers,

draped with such melancholy

over this increasingly unfamiliar face.

up and opens the door

just checking for something.

rotten eggs and mysterious apple sauce

say

hello? good morning!

time, time marches on.

dls