THE GAME OF MERCY

She said,
"If you’re not going to play the game…"
and I laughed: "I’ll try harder."
"OK," she said, looking up at me,
"One word, then. What is on your kitchen table?"
"Dirt," I answered.
She looked piercingly. "Jon…"
"Really! Well, dust, probably. But a lot of it".
"All right. How was the last book you read?"
I thought, then blurted. "Enlightening?"
"Good!" She held my hands in place
winning the game of Mercy
we hadn’t yet started.

"What’s next?" I asked.
"How do you feel – right now?"
and even before she stopped her sentence,
I answered: "Lucky."
We continued the word game
for snowy hours more.
I did all right,
once I found the rhythm.
But the game we hadn’t yet begun?
I never had a chance.