(read these lines before the midlife of the night)
I shouldn’t have had that third glass of Armagnac
In my profession we don’t
Get much to celebrate
I was drunk sitting
On the steps talking
To the kids
Perhaps he’d never left
Or he’d made it home before
Me, locked out
Next thing I knew we were back
By the water, the bay and Bayshore Drive
The writer arguing with the scientist
That worked-out comment
These on-air reinforcements
Those hidden objectives in Russia
Then him alone outside
Retelling the story
Repeating the first line
(an echo)
A third glass of Armagnac?
Not after all this wine
A scientist
A leader blunted
A maybe-no
Roommates with no personal
Pronouns breaking into an apartment
He followed her inside
They were arguing
That’s all they did now
But theirs was a good argument
Whose fetus was more beautiful?
Hers was perfect
A whale and an octopus
Her makeup had that glamorous
Cried-on-ness
She’d grown that extra tube
Then she let slip
She’d had an
Affair
I was glad I didn’t live
Here anymore but
I kind of missed it
© 2023 Edward P. Morgan III
