New Prose Poem Draft.
Life is What Happens
Life is What Happens
Wells Fargo called. The car payment is late. And, speaking of late, so am I and I don't know how to tell you. At the moment, the dog needs to be walked, the repairman couldn't fix the washing machine, and your mother won't get off the phone. I hope that when you come home we can slip off for a walk or a late movie. Although, it's more likely that we'll make some mac and cheese and argue about dishes and who forgot to make the bed this morning. Then, I'll drift to my Hebrew textbooks and half-finished papers. You, to your crossword, the television on in the background. Later, brushing your teeth, you'll hear me adding another blanket cursing the broken, cold radiator. Shivering together under the covers, you'll whisper "Won't it be nice when..." falling asleep before you can finish. I'll kiss your shoulder and wonder if I'm crazy. I love the way things are now.
