A Newlywed's Lament
Elixers, emulsions, powders and lotions,
spread on the counter like a fleet on an ocean.
It’s those bathroom battles that I still see,
ground that was lost, or a quiet victory.
A bloodless conflict, I must concede,
But battle lines drawn in a battle indeed.
We circle each other like birds of prey,
thinking of that explosive day
that we both know will come with a great thrill
when like raptors we swoop in for the kill.
For space to be had that doesn’t exist,
ironies aplenty, it’s life with a twist.
Irons and curlers and blow dryers too,
for goodness sake, what’s a man supposed to do?
At every visit I eyeball the hair
that grows by the day, stuck to the “Skin Care.”
Things wadded up in the waste basket,
oft overflowing like a yawning casket.
A place for dead things, unmentionables too,
then I think of my vows when I said “I love you”.
If a couple survives bathroom things,
chances are good they’ll keep wearing their rings.
But half of that space should be for the groom,
for heaven's sake, I too need room.
Copyright ©
Cal G. | Year Posted 2011
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