2001/redlips

Bright red lips,
parted to show
their teeth,
pulsate from the poster
on the wall.
I am holding your hand,
cool against mine,
as we read.
An overweight couple
enters our alcove,
looking for a book
on Hillary.
It makes me regret
we did not walk
first,
I do not want
to get fat,
any more so.
You lose a half pound
when you shower.
I could try washing
my excess down
the drain,
a day, or two
in the shower
might do.
I could dance more,
I could confess,
as I did when
we drove past,
that it was easier
for me to walk
from the old house.
The psychological
edge of the closer
path,
maybe it was
that.
Maybe it’s some
kind of feng shui
thing,
the location of
the septic tank
under the house.

1/27/01