My truest lies
in my sheets. He says,
Most precious,
you take forever.
Come to bed, and I’ll tell you
a love story.
Patience, I tell him,
anointing myself.
My favorite scent?
Yes.
Burnt Match?
Naturally.
I slide into bed, strategically.
Get off!, he complains,
yick all over.
But dearheart, my feelings!
I protest.
"Familiarity breeds
something," he says. Yes,
I say. So true.
So true, he says.
It’s what they say,
I say, and so ends
the exchange. We know
how it goes
in the draining light.
The smile waxes,
already,
the sunset, a pale blonde,
his bike on fire, and me
with marshmallows for skates. |
 |
| November 8, 2003 |
|
