Miguel is full of malarkey tonight,
and I have been told to send him away,
and I know to do it, I need to do it,
but the covenant is hard tonight.

The food is seasoned to perfection today,
and everyone relishes it and loves each other especially tonight.
And I invite Miguel and his lady to eat with us before
they trek to a place they don’t yet know.

We speak of dementia and broken livers,
and she knows he is broken hard,
but she protects him and mothers him and keeps him close, hurrying him briefly,
protecting him, holding him, and denying the truth.

And they leave, and we inside are
Comfortable, warm and quiet, but
we miss Miguel tonight, miss his charm, miss his bologna, and
contemplate broken livers and dementia and
charming man-childs and missing cohorts, and
those who have fled the covenant.

It is quiet and calm tonight,
dark and misty,
and we fear for those outside.
Outside.
Outside of this home, men and
women remember homes and
dream.