On the Eve of

Unable to do anything, I stall.

Unable to think, unable to cry, unable to smell

Unable to drink, unable to seek, cry, and cry

If you have seen it even once

You will not laugh

Don't be shocked, be shocked

On the eve of commemoration

"So, what's the big deal?" You ask, in your Canadian accent. Nasal and teenager-like.

"Nothing," I say. "I feel a little pain in the palm of my tummy."

"Are you not well?" You ask.

"I am well," I say. "I am well, but someone else wasn't, well, isn't, so well."

Why didn't you ask me, "Where the heck is the palm of your tummy?"

Why didn't you ask? Instead, you went off to eat your dinner. You don't care about me any more, do you?