STORY OF A MINUTE

When I became malignant

with divorce (sobbing

as though the nature

of my existence

had been stripped)

she said she would

always be there unless

I killed someone

(we laughed).

And then I thought

briefly (as though an anecdote

formed in the jar of my subconscious)

that her husband

worked overseas

twice

combat

and I chuckled inwardly

(like Chopin in an armchair)

at this place that

the devout call blessed

politicians call fair

and gangsters call cray.