Adapting Poem by anais vionet

Peter and I are together and we're in a grove.
Time is our treasure, precious and dwindling.

I watch for signs of the future unfolding,
like a twitch that might be the first sign of a stroke.

Answers will come - slowly - or they'll parachute in from nowhere.
We spend a lot of time together but most of it is spent studying.
We both have silences that shouldn't be penetrated.

I have so many questions, but I keep them at a safe distance,
so I don't feel the need to interact with them.

All I know is we're alive, and we still have to dance.
It's not always fun, operating in the face of uncertainty
but what else can we do - except go through the motions?

"When exactly did the world lose its collective mind? " I asked, reading the news on my iPad.

Peter looked up from the book he was highlighting with a phosphorescent pink pen.

"They've found toxic metals in CHOCOLATES. Everywhere." I announced, like that Poe bird.

"I guess we're canceling chocolate then, " he said, sarcastically, "we'll adapt."

"Yeah, you bet." I said with genuine irony.