Upon their faces
marks of worry
of weather
a simpering parsimony of words
In her face
the confidence of sexual power
(or only a mirage of
sexual power—
for there is too much
coy questioning about it
do you like me
my clothes, my hair?)
And this
still within
the formality of marriage,
the rude intimacy of it.
__
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easy like Sunday mornings
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Friends and old neighbors shutting it down in honor of John Crawford. _
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