Donít Tell Anyone
You have never known me
as she put her hands into
her tousled mess of hair,
like the curled and misplaced jungle
where she lived, had lived
with this stranger who saw straight lines
when what she saw was curve.
To go, needed a place, he said,
and his blue eyes matched his blue shirt,
and a reasonable because,
her, just because
was to him taking a dirt road
when you had a highway.
So, how had they lived
through two children and his drugs
and her CREATIVE EXPRESSION, for years,
when to not make war was like making love
without touching, but with the same afterglow.
We never fight in front of the children, she said,
Donít lay our garbage
at the barbecue of our neighbor, he said,
and then confidentially she told someone
they hadnít made love in six years
but he said he gave her foot massages
and touched her delicate there
between the toes where he could not help
but yearn for the shoe salesman he used to be
in his fatherís shoe store
looking at the legs and up the dresses
of so many friendly feet,
before, when he was young.
And she wishes to express herself,
she is an artist, a creator,
cannot live this work ethic,
must be free and cannot with children
still too sensitive to understand
how they could not live like this.
And the children listen behind the sigh
and the rolled eyes of not listening
and see her skin recoil from his touch
and his steady upturned pain
and they wonder why they cannot say
that it would be better not to wait
because right nowÖ really stinks!