Sonnet #30

He reads Shakespeare's sonnets out loud while I browse through Us Weekly. 

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought

I summon up remembrance of things past,

I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,

And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:

Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,

For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,

And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe,

And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight:

Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,

And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er

The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,

Which I new pay as if not paid before.

But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,

All losses are restor'd and sorrows end.

Then we talk. About stuff. Chelsea Klinton's wedding. Weddings in generals (are these or are these not the loveliest parties mankind knows to throw?!). Remembrance. Dreams and how we never remember the beginning of a dream (we saw that in a movie). As we talk, our conversation gets deeper and deeper and we almost reach the core of the Earth and life. 

Then he goes out on the porch and lighst a cigarette. I walk behind him, very quietly, and light the candles on the porch. Make it cosy. We sit in the dark, he smokes. I browse through my Us Weekly.