Sunday, March 25, 2018

Blocked

I drove straight ahead. Eyes on our road.
He walked straight ahead. Eyes on our path.
On one side, his beagle. On the other, his wife.
We were the best of friends. Like childhood friends. Like freshmen in college friends.
And then we weren’t.
We tried to be.
But she didn’t want that.
A bigot.
She doesn’t like Catholics. Doesn’t want them around.
She was; I am.
That was the problem.
One last conversation. “She’s my wife.”
That was it. I didn’t like him anymore.
We became intolerant.
I refuse to tolerate bigotry; he tolerates her bigotry.
And now I drive straight ahead. Eyes on our road.
He walks straight ahead. Eyes on our path.
On one side, his beagle. On the other, his wife.