I went with two old friends to the pool today,

where we talked about getting older still,

and about when

we might marry

and if

we’d have children

and how

to find work and independence.

 

We worried collectively about the future

and expressed the wish for a cool dip—

a chance to sip and swallow

a mouthful, just a mouthful,

from the well of happiness at last.

 

This drought’s gone on so long

that even tears have run dry.

 

Lord, you once asked

a ragged, risqué woman

for a drink from a well,

in Samaria, if you recall.

 

You offered her everything.

 

Please take care of us.

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