Framed

They listen to Mancini
She cries, telling him
How tough life has been
For her—of exes long gone
He gets the Kleenexes
The fire is snapping and
Roaring behind the grate
He keeps touching her
In different places
Gently, that’s why she doesn’t
Push him away
He keeps peeling off items
Of clothing
Says it’s warm in there
A shoe, the other
One sock, the other
She feels she can’t complain
Too much
He isn’t ugly.
He’s strong and virile.
Pleasant, too, cause he says
Funny things and did service.
His Gulf War photo is there,
Framed,
On an end table
He and some buddies
He’s comforting
She always liked consolation
Can’t recall when she didn’t
So she lets him
Remove her blouse
No hurry, no
Then her bra
Ahhh
She knows hers are nice
Nice Cs they are
She lets him
And he does it
Later, she isn’t sorry
He isn’t either
Now she keeps seeing the flames
In that fireplace.
For crying out loud.