And in the end, things happened quickly.
After years of protracted silences
& painstakingly unmended fences,
we both woke to an email finalizing
the divorce.

Neither of us knew that this would be
the wished-for day. She woke in our house,
I in my shabby place, grousing
internally about the other, replaying
old arguments.

And now there was nothing left
to divide, nothing to fight over.
Fees prepaid. A finally-shut door
kept us safe & far far from one
another.

On opposite sides of town,
the baristas told us,
"Have a nice day." 

"You too." 
"You too."

This was written for a National Poetry Month challenge, an April Fool's Day poem, something untrue. Sometimes when I write about me & my wife, I use that image, William H. Johnson, Café (ca. 1939-1940) but not always.