BY JAY CALHOUN
…Must’ve been all the sex.
Says she.
Cute and quick
Her light response to the split sagging bed,
And the old bolt that once held the frame-halves together.
Maybe…,
Says he.
Tired,
Not wanting one more thing to fix.
She hands-over the pieces:
One quarter-inch bolt,
Bent
With it’s sheared-off head.
…Really lasted a long time,
She offers,
…Since before the kids.
He slowly folds his knees and back,
Making a floorward move.
Half-under with legs out,
Like some auto mechanic in dress shoes.
…Maybe we should have had more sex,
He grunts.
…And broke this when I was young enough to fix it.
…Careful, old boy
Says she,
rubbing the ratchet up his arm.
…Stop that.
He growls,
But under the bed,
He’s smiling.