no dependents

i prepare

my paperwork to hand off

to Betty,

who does my taxes.

and has done so for the last

twenty years.

fast years.

she's been through a few

cats since then,

a fresh tabby

is asleep on a file cabinet.

but the office is the same.

the thin shears

letting the light into

a little cape cod

affair

down the road in Manassas.

the bell rings

when you enter the door,

and out

comes 
Betty, adjusting her wig,

pulling on her

dress,

her knitted shawl.

early bird she says greeting

me at the counter,

please, she says, laughing.

please tell me you didn't

get married again.