A Rabbit Hops At Night, Unseen

It was an evening in November,
cold rain and a wet street outside that had been dark since dinner.
And the house had been quiet because the kids had been sullen
and neither you nor I could see the street.

The rain was indifferent, the dark was indifferent,
the cold was indifferent to what was needed
and the cars outside passed by lonely,
only headlights.

I did laundry while you put the kids to bed.

Then you asked me, in a tone of voice you asked me-
you said that we needed to talk. There was something to discuss.

You said the soul was like a puzzle and a partner was the piece that filled the hole.
That puzzles don’t have wills but they have souls.
That walks in barefoot grass are a precursor to happiness
and no one walks alone,
especially you.

You asked. You asked. You asked if that made sense.
You asked if I felt and if I saw the puzzle
and if I had a hole, were you my partner?
Had we been walking alone?

No, you said,
you hadn’t been walking alone,
while I tried to shed light on my road.

What a fool.