by Julie Cadwallader Staub, author of Wing Over Wing: Poems
Hey—we’ve been passing like ships in the night. Can’t we hang out together
and make beautiful music like we used to?
You must have lost your marbles, she says.
You need to turn on a dime
and step up to the plate
if we’re going to make hay while the sun shines.
Wait a minute—you’re putting the cart before the horse. Let me cut to the chase.
We’ve been treading water, and all I’m trying to do
is move the ball down the field.
I know, she says, but you have to have your oar in the water too.
Look, he says, you’re my north star.
I know I missed a few beats, but
don’t throw the baby out with the bath water. I’ve turned over a new leaf.
I’m watching my p’s and q’s.
I’m dotting my i’s and crossing my t’s.
Now we’re cooking with gas, she smiles.
I’m so relieved. I was afraid you had hung me out to dry. If we can be like two peas in a pod again,
everything else will be icing on the cake.