I watch her gargle.
swishing with great abandon.
letting the liquid fight its minty battle.
Somehow I lose myself in her
spitting , rinsing--living, or
maybe just the pastel background I admire
the strength of it all.
Now she watches me,
and I shave as if just for her.
A sweetly scanted memory real
and unreal all at once a
dull razor snags skin.
I stare at the culprit,
while the victim stings.
“You always do that” then
she laughs.
I’m left to wonder.
If I really signed up for this.
She cannot have expected this.
Could she?
She hands me a tissue.
I guess we did.

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...