RED LEFT HAND

On my last day

in London

I am determined

to beat G

We have a game

we play

whenever I

am in England:

Who can walk

the most miles

in a day?

I can walk

fourteen miles

without effort

on any given day

G can, too

Typically

we walk separately

sometimes in

different towns

then compare

screenshot notes

of our triumphs

20,000 steps

30,000 steps

Will the madness

never end?

On this day

my last day

in London

we are together

G is pulling my little suitcase

and we are 

going at a good clip

heading to

estination known

I want to

stroll Kew Gardens

I glance down and

spot a dirty red glove

and this prompts

unbidden laughter

that glove strikes me

as hilarious

Then we keep moving

maybe it’s another 

quarter-mile or so

before I glance over

and see that

G has somehow 

without my Notice

retrieved the glove

put the filthy thing on

and is now pretending

he has no idea

how it got there

Now I am laughing

hard enough 

to need to stop

double over

wipe my eyes

Later I 

stuff that glove

into my suitcase

Now it lives at my house

where it has survived

at least ten major purges

and several moves

One day G texted me

a photo of

a nearly identical

dirty red glove

I was pleased

at the memory it prompted

but confused

for the magic of that

garden moment

had tricked my mind

into thinking

there was only one

dirty red glove

in the whole world

and it was

our little secret

I recovered from

my shock

I’ve had

worse disappointments

My red glove

is still

the best red glove

Ever

I can make

anything magic