Attachment
Feb 6 2024
The picture window
In the winter darkness
was like a big movie screen
as the dog and I passed
on our daily walk.
Hardly a voyeur,
and nothing like a stalker
or prowler
casing the place.
Just a couple seconds' glance
as the anonymous actors
played out their daily lives
unaware of being watched.
Like the shadows on the silver screen
more celluloid than real
yet somehow more believable.
Really, nothing to see.
The two of them
pretty much the same, day after day,
like the scene you play on repeat
to see why it works so well.
A moving picture
on freeze-frame
before I looked away.
But I still felt envious.
For the warmth
on a cold winter night
of that modest living room
with the homey furniture
bathed in soft amber light.
For their togetherness
domesticity
comforting routine.
For the married couple kiss,
more peck on the cheek
than full on the lips.
But genuine
and held just long enough.
An exchange that showed
more affection than passion
more attachment than lust.
The tender coupling
that only comes with time.
Because infatuation cools.
Because the urgency
probing hands
wet tongue,
the unzipping
unbuttoning
and frantic unbuckling
get old fast.
And because, as any poet knows
less is more.
So a good old-fashioned movie
with no clever dialogue
mic drop
special effects.
No sex scenes
car chases
plot twists.
Just the small intimacies
of a long marriage
that works.
No comments:
Post a Comment