a few
of my favorite books,
and regretting it.
i had a gut
feeling that our torrid
lover affair wasn't going
to last,
and that i would never
see those books again.
i stare at my bookcase,
at the empty slots where
they used to be,
and wonder if i should
kiss and make up,
just to get them back.
maybe buy her flowers,
or bake her some brownies,
or a bottle of scotch,
i think she'd like that, then
while she's in the bathroom
i could find the books
and sneak out the back.
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