By Elsie McFarland

Every so often my ex-husband comes over,   
still boyish in his advancing years.
I catch him up on our grown children,
the grandkid's music lessons, soccer games,
and their October trip to the Canyonlands.
He recalls our long-ago August cross-country trip;
the Ford Fairlane, three kids and a dog, and earlier--
just the two of us--through Europe—on five dollars a day.
I open the refrigerator and pop a beer,
Dividing between two glasses.
He sighs, downs the beer and
leaves before I remember he is dead.

Copyright 2007 Elsie McFarland