I came down this morning, wary of you,
hot day and cool shorts and furry legs.
I counted up just how much you are due,
I started my listing, a dozen eggs.
I remembered your jacket, slick as silk,
Pushing my body to the pantry door.
I went back to my task, two quarts of milk,
I felt your soft disgust, “you bleeding whore.”
I crossed out cream, it is too dear for me,
I almost smiled when I wrote half-and-half,
And that’s when I saw we can never be;
Not that you laugh, it is the way you laugh,
You can’t even bother to seem to care.
That will be all. Please do not ring. Sue-Claire.
About Daniel J. Langton
Daniel J. Langton's work has appeared in Poetry, The Atlantic Monthly, The Paris Review, and similar journals. His Querencia won the Devine Award for Poetry and the London Prize. His seventh collection, During Our Walks, is coming out this year.
