one

How Well I Remember

How well I remember that smile

of him his hair somewhere between sunset and gold ...

(before I learned it was dyed)

the embracing wrap around of his voice on the telephone . . .

Oh! how I enjoyed his dulcet tone! his bedside manner...

But what matter?

it was as real as

the rest of him...

right out of a ladies magazine

or a sunday supplement . . .

but well tried

and muchly played

good enough to take me in neat and clean

That now most of all

I recall The Mighty Buildup for the gawdawful! let down!

that wasn't necessary at all. . .

but I'm wondering . . .

could it be

all he wanted

was the name of my psychiatrist?

to split a couch

instead of

share a bed with me?

p. e. britton

22