Even As Your Body Betrays You, Your

Jacob: I've Never Seen So Much Manure. Wade: Baggage Stock Horses. They Pack'em In 27 A Car. Jacob: How Do You Stand The Smell? Wade: What Smell?

I Stroke Her Lightly, Memorizing Her Body. I Want Her To Melt Into Me, Like Butter On Toast. I Want To Absorb Her And Walk Around For The Rest Of My Days With Her Encased In My Skin. I Lie Motionless, Savoring The Feeling Of Her Body Against Mine. I'm Afraid To Breathe In Case I Break The Spell.

I Used To Think I Preferred Getting Old To The Alternative, But Now I'm Not Sure. Sometimes The Momotony Of Bingo And Sing-alongs And Ancient Dusty People Parked In The Hallway In Wheelchairs Makes Me Long For Death. Particularly When I Rememver That I'm One Of The Ancient Dusty People, Filed Away Like Some Worthless Tchotchke.

I Am Ninety. Or Ninety-three. One Or The Other.

After Sixty-one Years Together, She Simply Clutched My Hand And Exhaled.