Sometimes roles in life
My wife pays for the cheesecake piece I ordered.
And my mom drives my syncope-prone
Dad everywhere. I take the long road
Home, missing the seasonal Christmas traffic.
I call a friend who never calls me back,
And I wear a condom when
My wife is taking a break from the pill.
And the cheesecake turns gold
As I see empowerment shimmering
In my wife’s eyes. My dad loves my mom
More, knowing she is always keeping
A caring eye on him. The traffic is special
When you see every driver give
A folded note to the one-armed beggar
At the intersection. It’s always good to hear
A friend’s voice, especially
When you’ve shared a long history of friendship.
The condom appreciates the mood, knowing you’re not
Asking your wife to take the chemical route
That interferes with her metabolism.
And it’s those rarities, the infrequencies,
Oddities and anomalies, that make
You appreciate little changes
From routine. And sometimes they make
Your life a tad special. A cheesecake is never cheesy
For me, nor is the cheesecake moment, knowing
You sometimes let her wear the pants
In the cheesecake shop and even in the bedroom.
And have you seen, a woman in hip
Hugging hipster pants, and high stilettos,
A wisp of whale tail showing on top,
Buying you a piece of raspberry cheesecake?
And when home, letting your tongue get capsized
On an island of flamingoes?
Or smell the musky aroma of her g-string
And taste the underside of her medium-built feet?
And have you ever seen a man’s tongue
Turn so vividly blue all over?
Like he had been tasting for hours
A beautiful clitoria bloom.