go in peace,
son, daughter, friend,
says the priest,
to which i reply,
go bask in the sun,
but the priest never seems to take my advice,
since they look as pale as ever
each and every
time i see them again, again, again
i had an idea,
ingenious i thought, though maybe just stupid enough to sound profound,
but i would cry all my tears that i would ever need in life,
then put them in the back of the freezer,
so whenever i felt sad,
whenever i needed to mourn,
or perhaps whenever i laughed so hard i needed to cry,
i would have the tears ready to go,
sitting next to the freezer-burned panko shrimp that kept getting pushed to the
back,
the back,
the further back
of the freezer
though hopefully i don’t
forget my tears on a day i really need them
melted peanut butter in between two salty crackers,
the heat of the cellophane crinkling in the heat of the car,
as i eat my post-work afternoon snack
while driving home, wondering what i will have for dinner,
knowing it’s probably better than the melting peanut butter
stuck to the roof of my mouth
Fred Aiken Writing 