Forty Six Dollars

It was the second Saturday of the month In the afternoon, before lunch, we made love It has become our ceremonial sacrament. I entered her, and I thought, Does she feel anything? Beyond my curiosity, it was nice An out of body experience Propelling forward Drawing back Impaling her like A surgeon engraves a patient Making his mark Just as I made mine. So many Saturdays Stealing the purity from The marriage bed Attempting to not make evidence I mounted her straddling her thighs Looking at the family photo above the bed Her horizontal skin adhering to mine It is odd that I felt this way for her As I laid on top of her Ears rubbing Necks caressing Bodies uniquely intertwining like octopuses fighting over the same boat We had to stop. As I quietly left, tucking her under the covers Leaving my forty-six dollars and fifty-eight cents On the kitchen counter for my services and fresh box of condoms, Placing the cum filled contraceptive in her husbands slippers Knowing he comes home from work tired; hopefully as tired as I made his wife.