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In the Garden


by Gary Percesepe


It will always be this way,

won't it, she said.

Me insecure, you unfaithful

 

until we die. Or

the Cubs win the

World Series, I said.

 

But the Cubs did

win the World Series,

she said.

 

Then let's reverse roles,

 I suggested.

I will be insecure.

 

I could never be

unfaithful, she said,

her bottom lip trembling.

 

I could be insecure

about that, I offered,

fixing my tie.

 

There are wounds,

she said, and dreams

of wounds.

 

Both hurt, I agreed.

The sky opened for

a quarter hour

 

soaking us both

in the garden. I'm

scared you'll stay, she said.

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