(He Thought.)

Bitter words.  Harsh words.

Drove them away from each other.

His side of the bed, empty for weeks

(He thought.)

A grandson’s laughter brought them back

To ground zero.  Where they could talk

And reason with one another.

(He thought.)

An evening out, at the big screen movies.

Cars crashing, popcorn and coke, bullets smashing

Into bone.  Not as bad as a broken heart.

(He thought.)

The armrest between their theater seats

Kept their bodies apart, but let their hands

Wander over each other’s knee.  Touching.

(He thought.)

Driving her home to their one-time place

Over the bridge that crossed the bay

Devils cannot cross the water or follow them home

(He thought.)

He hoped she’d ask him if he would spend the night

Maybe they could help each other make it through

And come into the morning light with understanding.

(He thought.)

Routines and rhythms of old married partners

Stay the same even in new and uncharted territory.

She readied for bed, same as before, eager for him

(He thought.)

He turned down the bed, stashed his clothes

Turned down the lights and turned up the blues

Things would be warm if not downright hot

(He thought.)

Habits and motions that are just plain routine

Laid his eyeglasses upon nightstand at his side of the bed

Familiar and exciting to slip between sheets, wait for her.

(He thought.)

The sheets were not flat or crisp like new

But, wrinkled and rumpled, creased by body weight

Pillows crushed by another man’s head.

He thought!

%d bloggers like this:
close-alt close collapse comment ellipsis expand gallery heart lock menu next pinned previous reply search share star