Dialogue with the Enemy

By: Maurice Khayat

The days pass slowly by
Each one in succession.
But these days of feigned joy
Must end in long depression.

On any particular day, I find myself in jeopardy of facing that which I despise. He is not a liar, a cheater, or a deceiver. Some days I am pleased to see him, and others…well most times I long to smash his smiling countenance and to shatter his blunt tongue. I particularly hate nose pains, because those are the ones that will inevitably lead me to face him. Sometimes I am prepared and handle the meeting well, other times I mindlessly wander through that nagging in my aching skin until I find myself face to face in front of him. Then, it begins:

“Hello there. My, how red your nose is! What have you been eating?”

“I had too much dessert. I know I should cut down but it is too difficult. I curse you for it. Hello, yourself, you malignant, miserable