CC Bloom Poet Free verse

I don't examine the details of Dorinda

little hairs on her knees,
always hard to shave, I suppose
the mascara smear
below her right eye
after she laughs
at a bad joke in the breakroom,
the fork she ate the pasta salad with,
now in the sink,
the splattered freckles
on deep-bronzed shoulders

I ignore these specifics
I maintain focus
on more important things

I make my deadlines,
I watch the news,
my kitchen is always clean,
I wear sunscreen,
I trim my beard accordingly,
I am always emotionally prepared
to evade sentimentality
wherever possible

Dorinda is always late,
her bun slightly left-of-center,
she should wear more green
and maroon to compliment
her hazel eyes, but she doesn't

I find satisfaction in work,
the constant rush,
standing just close enough to her
in the elevator every day,
up and down for five minutes
is enough

Dorinda always smells
like tangerines and vanilla

the quiet of shared space,
that is enough for intimacy
in our elevator
before the moaning of traffic,
before the smell of leftover curry
waiting for me at home,
clean silverware,
a well-kept bed

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