Seventeen years into their marriage
she wanted to feel her heart thump wildly
swollen nearly bruised lips
irresistible urges and bad timing
she remembered her very skin being aroused
but somewhat vaguely
once she thought his warm breath
might be sighed inhaled in some other bedroom
oh she dismissed those thoughts
as she would visions of brake failure on mountain roads
prepared his favorite summer berry pie
practiced Pachelbel on a silver flute
Who had it been overfilling the cup
who had taken someone for granted
which of them had sat too long at some screen
could that clock be reset pushed back an hour
over in the backyard she constructed a tunnel of love
wrote out some words in see through silver in the courtyard
picked him up on the backroad with his thumb out
straddled his blue jean lap on the front seat of the convertible
It was the way he used to look
It was the way he grabbed her at the waist
purple pen now on the ground
so now dropped down to her knees
not so far away from him
the ride to make her a part of him
that’s the way it used to be
in synch like it could never end
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