And now, to begin again.

And now, to begin again.
That’s a finite number,
the beginnings we get.
How many times did
Mrs. Robinson start
over, her husband the
drinker lose his job,
her son steal a car,
the neighbors stare,
and she begin again,
making it up, making
a whole new face to
let them see. Hard
times she said, sailing
forth, a basket on her arm
as if she meant to shop.