the ten year affair

as i sit

at the outside cafe

along the tree lined boulevard,

the sun

up high,

the sky blue as blue can be,

i listen

to the couple beside

me,

arguing, discussing,

negotiating

their future

together, or not together.

she says,

i can't see you anymore

until you leave

you're wife,

but, he stammers,

reaching for her hand,

we've been going out for

over ten years

now,

you can't end it now.

it's over, she says.

looking away, not eating,

not drinking.

shaking her head.

i'm tired of spending holidays

alone,

of sneaking around,

lying to everyone.

just wait until the holidays

are over he says.

we'll take a trip,

we'll go somewhere and figure

this out.

after new years, okay?

you say this every year, she

says, standing up.

i'm done.

don't call me anymore,

or i'm calling your wife.

i'll put all your things on 

the porch.

don't knock when you come

to pick them up.

but i love you, he says,

twisting his wedding ring

on his finger.

no, you don't. if you did we

wouldn't even be having

this conversation.

i look at her as she walks

away,

and wonder what took her

so long

to grow up

and have the truth set her free.