A day of long meetings,
hours gazing into computer screens,
competitive offices and tense meetings,
projects with deadlines, or
quotas needing to be filled.
They came from soccer practice,
from the field and its glory
or the parking lot,
where the August sun drains the life out of
moms in minivans.
She came from a lonely home,
from an easy chair that sits
in front of a droning television,
next to an end table with an empty coffee cup,
and a phone that never rings.
They came from homework,
chapters underlined and blanks filled in,
some of them right, some of them wrong,
some left undone,
waiting to be turned in for approval.
He came from the worst fight,
(or at least it feels that way),
that he’s ever had with his wife.
Tomorrow’s might be worse,
might be the one that ends it all.
And here they all are, together.
Though they are also
in those places, still.