Living With It

It’s weird to be dying and thinking,
Frequently, that everything works out.
After a bizarre day Halloween

Costume shopping around town with doom
And the death of the free world at hand,
Or at least at the backs of our minds

(One teen, still too young to vote, asking
A group of friends around the table
If they felt as anxious as she did,

Nods greeting her, a generation
That may soon undertake resistance
They’re not yet prepared for as they shop

For items with which to craft costumes,
Scary but silly, for now, for now),
You noted how that day’s obstacles

And trivial, personal worries
Worked out well, worked out just fine, ok?
The way everything keeps working out,

A fine life, another holiday,
Another holiday, calendar
Full of them, so many quirky days,

Leading you to chuckle at yourself,
Thinking, You see? Everything works out,
And your death sentence you just live with.