The Last Night of Our Trip Farther

The last night of our trip farther

south and west than either of us
had been, we ate by the side of
the road and talked about revenge.
Lila said You love revenge. Not
true, I said. I am too proud to
spend time on people who done me
wrong. You would if you cared about
them, she said and I told her I
would think about it. Revenge must
be important to you if you
think about it, she insisted,
taking a last bite of pie. I
did think about it, rolling it
in my head and savouring it.
I decided getting even
without guilt (which is useless) or
anger (which is gauche) is fine, no
matter what I said to Lila.
She then said When it comes to love,
you’ll do just about anything
for it. You take the cake. True or
not, I pushed away my supper.
I hated a grand thing like love
getting mixed up with shame. Lila
said You can’t beg for love like a
dog with her eyes piercing mine and
all I could say was I knew how 

to serve up shame if I wanted. 

The simple act of living well
would do it right. Her eyes narrowed.
Someday she will be the one to
say to me Revenge becomes you.