Prior to our divorce, the echo chamber,
a blazed path of scorched earth where a mistletoe once grew;
I will admit, my mate was a sheep in wolf's clothing and I the opposite, an inside out porcupine.
We use to joke about it over a couple glasses of wine,
until our second therapy session, the grapes smelled sullen
and the joke was pronounced dead on arrival.
I am one to never quit: a job, a duty, yet the car was totaled,
having just installed our toddler's seat, my hand was forced.
Holidays apart, a decade of predetermined calendars,
"every others", now omnipresent words
scrolled into our patchwork speech patterns.
It was a Thursday morning, extra early, for me at least,
when I discovered my wife's "extramarital affair".
Something the lawyers like to call it, doesn't soften the blow though,
it's not like say, taking steroids, counting cards or
drinking vinegar to pass a **** test.
Merely thinking back renders my breath useless, vision impaired,
while that car wrecks at the same high speed as my heart thumps.
Allstate, just write the entire ******* check out to cash, I'm bare,
this fate was All my fault; apparently I lost her along the way.
Easier to do nowadays with what, say everything nowadays.
Haven't gotten to the part where I,
"allegedly attempted assault", on her new lover.
I must wait for two inks to dry before divulging that burnt dirt:
one on our old divorce decree, but more importantly,
the other on her new marriage license.
FIN to be CONTINUED.
"Wolves were just like sheep, for they gambled and frisked, and every day was fete day in Wolfland"
"Don't get it right, just get it written" ~ A lesson in life from mr. James Thurber.
