He painted an apartment for her once,
just to get her off his hands;
then he was sayonara, gone.
He never heard about the drugs,
the nude frolic in a public fountain,
the ward. When she escaped,
naked under a stolen lab coat,
he was asleep in another city.
She stuffed the coat in a mailbox;
she knew her ecstasy would be brief,
& she wanted all of it.
A black bus driver called the cops.
Now she wears a box on her hip,
electrodes stimulating what and where
he’d prefer not to know, at lunch.
She fluffs up her vegan salad,
and he lifts his glass of water,
to have something to do.
Both of them are counting on lunch
to somehow say they’re sorry.
But watching his cleverness,
she thinks he’s the same old dickhead
he always was, denying her;
and he can’t believe he once pulled
toilet paper out of this woman’s
asshole, before licking same.
He feigns delight in a cheeseburger
she declares revolting, even
as she hopes she’s not gulping
too much wine. Carefully,
they check out their reflections
in the mirror next to their booth,
each of them idly considering
what it might be like this time.