at the lake
where we bring stale
loaves of bread
to feed the enormous geese
that pepper the path
with little pyramids
of green excrement.
we talk about the game,
about retirement,
about ex-wives and girlfriends,
cars and movies.
in the old days
when we'd meet,
usually in a bar,
we'd compare injuries
after playing sports,
basketball or football,
being the weekend warriors
we became.
we'd discuss
a twisted knee,
an ankle turned,
a pulled muscle of some sort.
we'd know the exact moment
the injury occurred.
and talk about
the ice or heat
we used to heal it.
but now when we talk,
and meet,
we ask each other,
so what doesn't hurt today?
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