Sylvia

When he looked at their guest, there was a disturbing new look In his eyes, a look she thought she remembered from someplace far; From so long ago, it seemed another life entirely. He used to look at her the same way, a million years from here, Seemingly thousands and thousands of days ago. Suddenly she felt so old, Much older than she was. She suspected she was starting To actually shrink, to disappear, to become just a miniscule thing, No bigger than a gnat, or a flea perched on a giant tack. She was a thorn in the flesh now, one that wouldn't go away The extra person in a group that wanted to be only two; Three is always too many, if two wish to be alone. Modern man has modern problems, because he wishes To make up new rules and to live by them, to swear vows on holy books In front of ministers, and then he imagines there is no going back. Man makes his own problems in life. We think life is inviolate, and change must be the enemy: Sylvia laid her down, and stuck her head in an oven- Problem solved.