Are They Trying to Annoy Me?

The men, silent
in a circle, their divorce papers dealt in the middle: they invent
Carl Jung
silently—individually—going out
far solo—far out; until one
lands back and says, “And then she said,”
to get them all laughing: Karl
came back too quick with that—is sick;
smashes the table and blames the divorce. More silence.
“What’s outside?” quickly; it’s trees.
“Looks like a forest. I would.” Karl
sees nothing, makes signs, removing his tie
at the door in a sprint meeting his wife—
a new life—in the undergrowth.