My eyes collide
into his horrific fish
shirt. The one that swims
with multi-colored
cotton carp and
the earthworm bait
they chase.
I trace a bisque thick stain:
an amber ring around his collar
and wonder
if he wishes for one
to encircle his finger.
I am twenty-one
years his junior;
while I gargled my first
speech,
he was sipping whiskey
with Aqua Netted women.
Our lifelines notched
us against a gummy wooden bar
where we order more
of the red wine and Amstel Light
that let him to kiss me;
a Pall Mall smoky make out
in the buzzing midnight parking lot.
His triangle of pepper
chest hair trembled.
And he loves me.
he slurrs
the words like easy
cheese
and plants his hopes
in my palms.
And this is how we grew.
