Funny That Way

I came across a poem today on the internet written (about 15 years ago or more) by a woman who was married to you. It was a love poem about a man. Probably you. The internet is funny that way.

Here is a photo of our lunch table this afternoon after Andy left to visit the restroom. You used to say “toilet.” Americans usually use a euphemism instead, like I just did. Americans are funny that way.

The poem was lovely (hers). Truly; nothing euphemistic about it (my description).

There is a tool that would allow me to rotate that photo once, twice, until the title turned upright. But there is no such magic that would let me pull the napkin from between the pages, put my fingers inside and read any of the words. Not a single one of them.

I could just as easily resurrect the dead. Death is *funny that way.

*euphemism

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