The loud ones.
The quiet ones.
The long ones.
The ones you’re embarrassed by.
The ones you try, lamely, to blame on the dog.
I tell you all of this in bed one night
a month after your diagnosis.
Our laughter keeps going until
it peters out, as laughter does.
“I still can’t believe there are some couples
who say they don’t fart
in front of one another. Like, can you really believe
that bullshit?” you say.
“I know, I know. That’s kind of insane.”
I don’t know if it betrays some lack
of intimacy in a relationship.
But it’s pretty weird.
Why would you be afraid
after a certain point
of something we all do?
