nurse and doctor

you come home from
work and your
wife is in the kitchen
stirring
a pot of soup
on the stove. that
smells good you
tell her, kissing her
lightly on the neck.

hey, she says, i'm
cooking. this is hot.

i was thinking, you say.
maybe tonight, just
hear me out, that
we could umm, you know...

what? she says. spit it out,
oh, by the way, don't
foget to take the trash
to the curb. there's three
big green bags
out back full of leaves.

i was thinking, you start
again, that maybe we
could ummm. you put
your hands
around her waist, which
makes her jump,

that tickles she says,
stamping her feet. stop.
be careful, this soup
is almost boiling.

maybe, you persist,
just maybe, later, we
could play doctor and
nurse tonight.

her head snaps around
and she laughs.
doctor and nurse, really.
what grade are you in
buster. pffft.
what kind of a doctor.
a podiatrist? i hope not,
because that doesn't
work for me at all. touching
all those stinky feet
all day long.

you sigh. i don't know.
maybe i'm a general
practitioner.

do you have
your own office. in the city?
the suburbs?

what does that matter,
you ask her.

i don't know, she says.
a doctor in the city
seems more important...
move to side would you.
i have to chop this
celery.

you take your hands
off her waist. i'll
go get the trash, you say.

i don't like the idea
of a cardiologist, either
she says, yelling as you
head towards the door. would
you have a white coat on.
a stethescope? i think i'd
rather be a receptionist
instead of a nurse,
is that okay? i just
don't like being around
needles and blood.

you let the screen door slam
as you go get the trash.