May this decree be signed expeditiously
and this divorce be soon over.
May it be amicable.
But not too amicable.
I refuse to vacation together.
Who do we think we are,
Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin?
May this divorce be like oil and water,
separated indefinitely. In fact, let us be
parallel lines. You go your way, I’ll go mine,
never touching again. Ever.
May this conscious uncoupling be full of freedom:
from the nightly whistle of your CPAP machine
and from your mother’s Christmas
raisin bread pudding.






