A poem by my father, Jordan Miller, who’s been stuck in the assisted-living facility where he lives in Chicago, and where the residents are no longer allowed to eat together in the dining room.
THOUGH IT HAS THE CADENCE OF THE DANCE,
IS HARDLY CONDUCIVE AND MAKES IT ELUSIVE
TO YOUR AND MY ROMANCE;
A PREVENTION, NOT A CURE,
KEEPS US APART TO PRESERVE US,
SO THAT OUR LOVE WILL ONE DAY ENDURE;
I KNOW IT SEEMS A PARADOX,
LIKE WEARING TWO UNMATCHING SOCKS,
OR USING CHOPSTICKS TO EAT LOX,
OR WATCHING FISH TAKING WALKS;
HOW WE CAN SURVIVE,
TO TOUCH AND LOVE AND KISS AGAIN,
TO KEEP OUR LOVE ALIVE?