One Fine Day

she woke up earlier, no alarm needed. scrubbing, meticulously showering, each movement a ritual cleansing of the dark parts, the soft parts soon so softly seen & sought by darkly fingers. a dab from the alabaster jar in every strange spot his nose usually goes. slip the thin yellow dress that won't stop the warm breeze of breath. ringless fingers clasp the watch, the tiny hands holding an hour between their meeting. they will walk the beach today, she will smile in the shade. the dress will rest in the sand while nymphatic jealousy invades every beast in the glades. "where are you going?" i asked her. "just for a walk," she said, eyes probing her purse for a smoke. "want me to go?" i asked her. "no," she said, "i just want to be alone today, to think about things." she was wearing the yellow dress, it used to be my favorite. "that's fine," i said.