Driving along

and a sudden elevator drop in my chest.

Riding that familiar riversong of sadness a moment,

I understand–ah–

my old, precious friend

is holding a conversation I’ve heard countless times.

Now I can recognize her disguise.

Funny mask, dear one,

but a confusion belies those heavy, tearful eyes.

Stress, strain, the much too muchness of things

brings you here.

Rest, love.

Hide in your cubby hole and come out

whenever you would like to sniff

the riotous wind again.