He’s, like

He’s like
I don’t wanna do this no more
And she’s like
So, I ain’t stoppin’ you: go!
And he’s like
You’re so screwed up
And she’s like
So go!
And he’s like
There you go again; I can’t talk to you
And she’s like
So, go already
And he’s like
Why are you smiling?
And she’s like
What do you care?
And he’s like
You’re smiling
And she’s like
So what’s it to you?
And he’s like
Come here
And she’s like
No
And then he’s got his arms around her and he’s like —

There are goofy, sort of crooked smiles
That plant themselves on faces
Before and after kissing

What’s so funny? she says
And he says I’m just happy
I smile when I’m happy

And she, not used to happiness
Smiles back but hurts her face
With the unaccustomed exertion

Her lips peel back from her teeth
Much the way a croocodile
contemplates meat.

But this is a feast she is part of
The condiments are sweat and lipstick
The cutlery is fingernails and cotton

Her second smile does not hurt so much
She is becoming used to smiling
When next he smiles she doesn’t ask

She just gets ready to eat.
He’s like, nummy!

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wordcurrents/ Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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