worry

you worry too much
I tell betty.
in twenty thirty years we'll
all be dead.
so what's the point.
she tries to slap
me across the face,
but I duck.
like you never worry,
she says.
wiping latte foam
off her lips
and the tip of her nose.
everyone worries,
she says.
we live in the age of
worry.
but i'm tired of worrying,
I tell her.
it doesn't seem
to make a difference
how thing go.
it just gets you agitated
and you can't
sleep at night.
i'm worried about you,
she says,
shaking her head.
are you going to eat
that scone or not?
nah, go ahead, I tell her.
i'm watching my weight.