There’s the Rub

You fit for a while

and then later, you don't.

It’s hard to say when it happens.

One day you look down

Or up

Or across the dinner table

And discover that your things still fit,

your books and clothes and dishes

still inhabit the same space

But your body no longer slides easily

into that dip in the mattress.

Your mouth no longer slides smoothly

around the same old conversations.

There's the rub.

When it works

and it fits

and it’s absolutely right

it's worth all the bullshit,

until it simply isn't anymore.