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.