we're tired, it's Friday isn't it?
i pour a drink,
and ask her
if she wants one.
a double, she says,
throwing
her handbag to the floor
and kicking off
her shoes.
bad day? i ask her.
what do you think?
i hate my job, i hate where
we live.
did you walk
the dog?
yes, i tell her.
i hand her the drink
and sit down on the couch
across from her,
a couch we used to make love
on before
we were married
with just the moonlight coming
through the window
on our glistening bodies
and soft music on.
are you hungry?
i ask her.
Chinese?
sure, she says, gulping
her gin and tonic,
biting on the ice.
the usual.
i'm going upstairs
to lie
down.
text me when it arrives.
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