Isaac marries Rebecca three sentences after
meeting her for the first time, and as we say in
our current vernacular – in the very same scene.
This is how it was when I met my wife who,
of course, was not my wife at the time but
it was inevitable like scripture.
It may have taken a few paragraphs and,
possibly, a trip to the tents of Kansas City
to confirm what we already knew
despite the cautiousness of everyone
who knew us. We’re eighteen years into
this situation, unless you’re reading this poem
in the future, in which case you’ll need to
do some addition because I’m quite sure
we’re still a thing.
Isaac and Rebecca had two kids who fought
in the womb (if you don’t mind me jumping ahead)
which may be why we only had the one.
He’s already traipsing around the southland
holding the hand of the one he regards to be
his Rebecca. Words like soulmate are
falling out of his thirteen year old mouth like
we’re still living in Biblical times. We hope
they avoid the Egypt situation altogether.
If you’re wondering about the meaning of life,
my friends, find your Rebecca or your Isaac.
Don’t let three sentences go by before
you acknowledge what is happening.
The money may come and go. Whose hand
you’re holding when you spend it
is the entire thing.