I’m not looking to fall in love,
he tells her the first time she cooks.
I’m a Sagittarius. She likes his face,
the muscles of his legs, even the baby
fat padding his belly. When she touches
his throat he makes
purring noises. Can she make
him need her? The book says, With time,
affirmation, and unconditional love,
a man can grow to face
his fear of marriage. She keeps her touch
light, as if to soothe a baby.
Men are such babies,
her friends agree, then make
her over – softer hair,
a touch of blush. A pretty face
will get you far. She doesn’t love
him but she’s running out of time.
At least he takes the time
to please her, touching
her everywhere she needs, crooning baby
baby. They hold hands in restaurants, make
out in movies, call each other Sweetie-face
and Boo. She tries to love
the way he hums after making love,
to be patient when he interrupts and resents her time
with friends. They would fight, but she won’t make
an issue over little things. Her body aches for a baby.
A woman’s greatest asset is a touch
of restraint. She plants a smile on her face
and vows to grow nicer. She cannot face
a future without babies.
No man is perfect. Try hard to make
it work. Would you rather be right or loved?
She hates the smug book. She dreams sometimes
her hands are knives. She carves him with her touch.
It’s time to move on but let’s keep in touch.
Please don’t be mad. He makes his baby
face. The eggs hum inside her. She burns The Joy of Love.
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