Just in Time
I fancied myself riding waves
of surging hospitality
to my sister’s house for raves.
I’m percolating with esprit
into a Mother’s Day repast
at a restaurant in N J state,
where we usually amassed
for a seasonal tete a tete.
Three minutes late for the Dover
bus, I’d opt instead for the train
due to arrive minutes over
the food being served. “Fate’s disdain
for me,” I thought, admonishing
myself for not acknowledging
constraints of time. Just then I called
my sis, still harnessed by my plight.
My future prospects all but palled
by transportation’s plebiscite,
till, reeling from the pending loss
of an exculpatory lunch
my host put an ironic gloss
on it that hit me like a punch.
For with an air, demonstrative
as death, she said the Covid test
she’d taken came back positive.
Our luncheon date was put to rest.
For all the effort that I made
at salvaging a victory
from evident defeat, I strayed
into a valedictory.
Though notwithstanding being pissed,
the gods just winked at what I missed.