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By: Barbara P. (gotchagal) - ,   + 19 more  
Date Submitted: 4/6/2010
Last Updated: 5/7/2010
Genre: Literature & Fiction » Poetry
Words: 160

  Neighbors smile and wave as I park my car.
I come in through the open door,
kick off my shoes, and place the flowers
on the foyer table, along with my keys and bag.
My cigarettes are in their usual place,
next to the lucite lighter in the livingroom.
"I'm in here, in the kitchen," you call out,
"I hope you're hungry."

We work together in comfort;
I cut and season the meat,
reaching for what I need with neat efficiency.
You chopping vegetables, preparing the salad;
reaching out to caress my breast,
leaning over to kiss my neck.

As always, we get through dinner
and do the washing up while sipping our coffee.
You, drinking yours out of the yellow cup,
and me clutching my old blue mug.
Later, we shower together and go to bed.

It is only after seeing several scattered
hairpins on the sheet, that I am suddenly reminded
this is YOUR house.

Barbara Gregory Pearlman

The Eclectic Pen » All Stories by Barbara P. (gotchagal) - ,

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