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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?