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Mid-life Crisis
Anthony Bowman
"I think I'm having a mid-life crisis."
My wife peers over her magazine, saying nothing, beads of sweat from the humidity on her forehead.
"I don't mean that I want to sleep with my secretary or anything."
Now she sets her magazine on the deck chair next to her — with a faint smile?
"What's the matter, Tony?" she asks.
"I feel trapped. I hate my job and I have so many things I WANT to do, but can't because of all the things I HAVE to do. I didn't imagine my life running the rat race."
Now I see the smile — not mocking, but something else.
"Is that why you want a Harley?"
I think for a moment.
"No, but I want to quit my job and move to the beach."
Now the smile breaks into full bloom. She stands and leans over and plants a warm, wet kiss on my lips.
"I love you," she says.
And with a sudden jolt, I remembered love.
orange daylilies
in the west thunder claps
then passes on.
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