We launched ourselves onto this river,
Beneath an umbrella made for two,
In that year long Irish rain.
We eloped and swore some oaths;
To treat each other to love and respect,
The bond never (so I thought) to sever.
We catalogued moments in time,
Bold and otherwise, in picture frames
From bow to stern, and back again.
I got back to land by determination
Alone, the ghosts of our used-to-bes
Echo in photography, from port to starboard.
Just me, and me
On a river boat,
With a room to rent.
YOU ARE READING
My Papi's Mid-life Crisis
RandomI'm forty two and in danger of falling through the cracks of mediocrity; also known as a midlife crisis. I don't drive, so I can't buy a fancy car to fix it. I love my wife, so I can't have an affair with another woman. This book is part of my attem...
