My mother died 28 years ago today,
the first day of summer
the last day of my mother.
I loved being 28.
That was 56 years ago,
not as long ago
as the Inca civilization
or the death of Chaucer,
but now let us look at the future.
If I end up living
as long as my mother did,
the year will be 2037
a year in science fiction.
But why is the pasta water
taking so long to boil?
