I said, "I'm a bit concerned,
the prophet says, Your wife
will become a prostitute in the city."
She stopped, a bit miffed. "Memories
tend to flatten over time."
I agreed. "This all sounds like a
thoughtless wish for an empty bedroom."
She added, "Or a famine of hearing
the words of g*d."
I realized, once again, "A large part
of my joy is not being where I am
supposed to be when I am supposed
to be there. Wherever there may be."
She smiled and said, "Welcome
to the other side of popping
into a reality not your own."
A Thread You Follow 