a woman's touch

i need to help him decorate
she says.
he has no sense of style. he's
a man.
she laughs. brown and black.
leather. bulky lamps.
a can of peanuts
near the big tv.
a table where his feet go.
nothing matches.
no curtains, no art, nothing
to reflect
his inner soul, though it is
quite dark.
but i can help him.
he needs a woman's touch.
some light handed splashes to
bring life to the place.
some flowers, new sheets, blue
perhaps.
a shower curtain that isn't torn.
a rug
that isn't worn.
i can make it nicer here, at least
if not for him,
for me,
when i'm passing through
or leaving in the early
morn.