Long Live the Weeds and the Wilderness Yet
At a certain point they both start forgetting things. Mr. G forgets his toes are
beautiful. Mrs. G forgets she is not lonely. Occasionally they see a play and pretend
to be grateful for the distraction. They go on long walks together. What’s the name of
the village down there? I don’t know but there seems to be a garden. They eat
hamburgers and french fries in silence. Mr. G can go an entire meal without telling
her there’s mustard on her chin. This is what we call living in the present. Taking
each moment and rubbing it into our cheeks until our face turns a red violence. Mrs.
G stands on the porch. There are some birds, some tall grass. She is quite yellow
and expected. He is plopping through their potato field. Dropping each round body
and shoveling it under with dirt. Mrs. G turns inside to make a sandwich. The day leaves as usual.