At home, a sixteen-year-old son
and window treatments and walls
to paint and “How was your day?”
On the web there are no days
and no seasons and no oil changes
for the Subaru. “No one important.”
At the motel, flat pillows, a lamp
tall as his son in the corner and
a print of a sailboat. “In year three,
the sex fizzled and we broke up.
Then we got married.” Have you gotten
yourself into something? “Tonight
I am making your favorite dish.”
News comes on, news goes off, taxes.
“At some point, he stopped kissing me
on the neck.” She needs to write
her Goals Statement. “He promised.”
More or less. “How can I live like this?”
the three of them in unison.
|About this poem:|
"Do you remember when it seemed like lots of politicians were sexting their girlfriends? I was thinking of Atwood’s story 'Happy Endings.' At the end of the story, the narrator defines plot as 'a what and a what and a what. Now try How and Why.' I love that."