We’re both relaxed
We’re on fifth street
In New York city
The wrinkles on your forehead remind me
Of our struggles
You’re reading the New Yorker and I’m
Reading The Road
Then your phone starts to sing and “yesterday” starts to play
Sprawling over to the other side of the bench
You pick up your phone quickly
Your lip starts to curl
And a frown appears on your face
Your eyes swell up
As you tell me
“My brother Jon is going to Iraq”