Casimir Pulaski Day

“Everyone pays,” she told me one night.

“It never matters who you are or what you have.

We all have to pay.

You will too,” she said.

I mumbled, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

She said, “Well, I guess we might as well have sex.”

Later I asked her if we all paid the same.

“I suppose so. There’s only so much life can take.”

“You mean death, right?”

“No.” she said, “Death is easy.

It’s all the moments in between that we pay with.

We all pay with what’s inside of us.

That’s the stuff.

The ugly and the beautiful,

The rich and the poor

You and me.

We all pay with all those moments of

Loneliness and doubt and loss.”

The room was pitch black.

I put on “Casimir Pulaski Day.”

I started to cry.

She couldn’t see.

But she knew and she pulled my head into her chest.