that can & does go wrong—five divorces
between us. The more we drink
and talk, the more his teenaged face
peeks out, a starved cat in the ruins.
The hungry looks I loved slink there—
the eyes, the lips, the joking voice.
He has let himself go. Go where?
He has settled for a cupboard when we
once owned the very palace
where this young couple shines,
arrogantly beautiful and clueless.
When we part, I miss his hapless
come-on. Yet who was ever happier
than we were then, all those hours we spent
on that rank couch in the basement?
How was this man defeated, who used to sing
and play me Lay Lady Lay on his guitar?
Who, driving to the movies, used to kiss
my fingers in the dark of the car.
Listen to this poem:
Poem read by Barbara Ungar and recorded by Leanne Ungar.