Maybe for Nancy and Tom

We are selling the couch today

to some couple –Nancy and Tom.

Nancy and Tom were definitive;

Exact in what exactly they were looking for

Eager, precisely, for a tan and pleather couch. In fact,

They’ve got to have it today, “As soon as possible,” they said.

My response was delight, “No problem!” I said, wanting

to rid myself of the tan and pleather object.

How I hate its obtrusive shape and abhorrent texture.

If only they knew-

How we fought over who was responsible

For the ugly couch.

The ugly couch upon which we made love,

Our bare skin chilled against the cool plastic-like fabric.

Perhaps Nancy and Tom will experience the same.

-Being pressed between the confutation of warm, slapping flesh

And the cold stiff arms of

Our couch.

When the couch is gone- it will be empty.

The space, the place, we once called home.

The space, the place, we must then scour,

And clean until it is bone dry,

Absolve it of all that was

Left

In the wreckage.

We must erase any link to

A time when nothing was linked,

Couldn’t be, wouldn’t be

Shouldn’t have

Been always.

But maybe for Nancy and Tom.