Still in our dry-clean only's
my tie loosened— top button
relaxed after the work day
At a long cobbled-together table
of overlapping conversations
her voice is all I hear
Her smile framed by wine-stains
our laughter a duet conducted
with stemmed glasses
Her diamonded finger
lingers on my left hand
a little too long
Goodnight hug in the parking lot
chaste kisses on each cheek
we climb into different cars
Driving to different homes
and different spouses
as the familiar warmth fades
Leaving the understanding
that this is not unrequited
it is merely unspoken
Happy Hour by Bartholomew Barker | Poetry Fabric Box
$15.00Price
