the little things
i see her little gold heels i once founds sexy
next to the litter box
littered with little turds
her voice staccato and a bit sharp
for the key of 8 pm Tuesday night
duets with the old loud air conditioner
itself a sonic boom, a drum circle
i step in. all the lights are on
sterile hospitalized anesthetized
i must be in trouble, i think
for a second. maybe she's going to
break up with me
found someone else
caught a used condom in the ash tray
saw my zero balance bank statement
but little by little i find
she's not mad about anything
just chatting lying against a pile of clean unfolded clothes
though she was home early
the double sink bursts with dishes
dinner sits raw in the fridge
cat throw up is dried on the floor.
the only thing done is the laundry
which I did earlier;
every day is a series of let downs,
burdens, and non-dramas