False Pretenses

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

You lured me here—

No, that’s not true—

I decided . . .

You said “love”,

I fell into your brown eyes.

I’m here. Where are you?

Your spare toothbrush lives here. A comb.

A pair of flip-flops, total inventory,

Not enough to warrant a dresser drawer.

You visit. Show up . . . some nights

At eight or nine or ten. In your pack

You carry slacks and a shirt for work—

Tomorrow. You set up my ironing board,

Make pretty; no wrinkles mar you.

This might take an hour. You shower.

Another hour. Then you want to fuck.

You think I’m ready for a good time?

Some nights we exchange a dozen words.

I wonder who you are.

I wonder who I’ve become.

Some would call this depression.

I do not know.

You say you help your “sister”.

Who is she? You eat her meals.

You have a bed? A room? Or the house?

You have grown children. Does anybody

Know about me? Am I a secret?

I wait. I wait. I wait.

Want to hear about my day?

You never ask. I sweep, mop,

Scrub the toilet. I bake bread,

Boil a pot of beans. Walk to the market,

Haul my dirty clothes to the laundry.

I read, I sleep, I wait. I pray

To sleep. I pray for help. I pray

To stay sane. Night comes.

I cannot keep my eyes open.

If you think I’ll wait forever,

You’ve got another think coming.

Woke up this morning, changed the locks,

Put a dinky bag on the curb for garbage pickup,

And set out to walk on with my life.

Janet was right. At our age,

When you come sniffing ‘round,

You are looking for a nurse or a purse.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________