meets me at the park where we used
to go
when we were in love,
or rather getting busy
every time we saw each other
and hold hands and tell each
other things
that would never happen.
it had it's shelf life and ended,
but
somehow we remained
friends, without benefits,
it's just your run of the mill,
luke warm friendship now
that you never
quite know where it goes,
or how it ends.
but we meet just the same
for a chit chat.
she brings her spring water
and a bag of cut up carrots,
i bring my white russian in
a coffee cup, so as not to raise
suspicion with the po po who
might be lurking nearby.
she tells me she doesn't care
anymore about sex.
she's done. it's too messy,
too icky now.
i take a big gulp of my white
russian and repeat the word
Icky! out loud, really?
yes, she said. i think i'm okay
now being alone.
i've have my cats and my cross
stitching.
i've had enough sex for one life
time. no one melts my butter
anymore. i'm done.
maybe you just haven't met the right
guy these days, i offer.
no that's not it.
i've met every kind of guy,
she says, picking a bug off
her very attractive black sweater
with little butterflies stitched in.
i see that she's wearing
those jeans where they're all ripped
up like they've been in a
fight with a tiger.
she lets out a long sigh,
i've met skinny guys, fat guys,
married guys.
guys with muscles, guys with no jobs,
scientists, lawyers.
short order cooks,
gardeners. men with boats and bikes.
men with hair, men with no hair.
and the thing is they're all fine. in
fact i've never met so many nice
people that i never want to see
again.
oh my, i say. feeling the buzz of
my drink. i take her hand and move
closer to her.
hey, hey, she says, what are you
doing. what about the virus?
i'm good, i tell her, i was tested
a few weeks ago.
although i have some poison oak
or something on my leg.
no. she says. i told you i'm done.
so don't even go there.
i drove the station wagon here,
i tell her. you used to love
the station wagon. really?
she says. you still have it?
yup, just took it to the car wash
the other day.
had the vinyl upholstery
disinfected.
parked it right over there
under the trees, like the old days.
hmmm, she says. any more white
russians in the car?
got a whole thermos, my dear.
a whole thermos and some marvin
gaye loaded up
in the cd player.
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