They moved their cars into the street, so they could practice in the driveway. Making sacrifices as a group project. We prayed for snow and slipped away. Back at your house you said that we couldn't sleep in the same bed...but we could share the same room and air. I've settled for less before, I said. So I fell asleep at eight that night, so I could wake back up at ten. To say I got a good night's sleep. To say I shut the engines down.
And I was dreaming of falling down a lightly dusted snow-covered staircase. When I stood again, I saw the messy/violent/imprinted angel and she was crying.
I stayed on the floor until I heard birds, then I climbed into your bed. We pretended we had stayed that way all night. We pretended nobody knew. Now shake the ashes from the tray, and wrangle all the bottles up. But when the hardwoods prove too cold for you, you can always hop back into bed. And I said: If for some reason you change your mind, it's okay. We can reschedule to a day that suits you better. When you're feeling at your best.
But we won't tell him, 'cos that would cause trouble with a capital T. So keep this secret like you keep our baby safe. Close to the vest.
Now, I don't scare easily but I startle like a leaf. So please, don't tease me when I'm filling up the sink. And what's it matter when there's matters here of trysts and conviction? I'm a scholar married to a corporate lawyer in Sherman Oaks, California. And when it rains and it thunders? We meet as one, under covers. So take your phone off the receiver and put it back when you leave here.
No comments:
Post a Comment