Two women agreed
(as the train huffed through Darien)
they could not retire
“I need … ”
she said
“ … to feel relevant”
“Oh yes …”
her counterpart chimed
“ … the same for me -
the schedules, the board meetings”
“Need” I thought, not “Want”
“Feel” I noted, not “Be”
Then more agreement
about stylists – brittle tufts
of brightly saturated
preternaturally even color
broadcasting discomfiture
with graying
in an attempt to conceal same
Driveway chalk drawing
my grandson on my lap
he just this side of two
in the pre-memory stage
of now
me just the other side of sixty
he chases my pastel squiggles
with ebullient embellishments -
as soon erased by rain
as his memory
of this unplanned insignificant
perfectly satisfying day
a day as ephemeral
as the wind wobbled orbs
streaming from the bubble wand
he chases and bursts midair
I think “want” and I think “be”
and revealing irreverence
I welcome irrelevance
