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Jocelyn, secretly puzzelled
over how she could marry a man named Morely.
Morely the moaner she secretly called him.
As most women do,
she understood the perversities of men
She made leeway for their impracticality,
their visions, their unfulfillable dreams.
She sometimes felt life would be better alone
or with a pragmatic, well anchored female roomie.
It was just too laste for that she was thinking
as she stirred the pasta to keep it from sticking.
She knew that Morely could be driven
to do the dishes after the meal.
Then they would drift off into the evening.
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