We are not cheaters.
We do not want
to be pumpkin eaters.
Our sweaters tie
our bodies up like
sarcophagi.
No sense in sex.
And coy? Devoid of.
Just the facts.
Your clothes fit.
At the sink, your back
resists the fabric
along the shoulder blades.
Your pant leg ends
neatly at the sock.
I am a clean woman.
I am deadless, I am easy weather.
You and I, we make a merriment in stone,
and watch our tv shows alone together.
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