I would still stand helpless,
wanting to talk about Hillary,
just as we talked about her
in 2008, deciding it wasn’t her
time yet. We were right about that,
but wrong about everything else.
We parted company and both
worked hard for Obama, our
hearts far apart, but our souls
still connected, deep purple,
women of faith, capable of depths
only imagined in dreams.
Mine, not yours. Do you still think
I’m too young for you, too impulsive,
too intense? Go ahead, then. Head on
into old age without me. Wade in, deep
end of the pool. Tread water as long as
you can. After you finish forgetting me,
I would love to take care of you, brush your
hair, bring you Irish Soda Bread, and soup.