The Sensible Girlfriend

Photo credit: missymax from morguefile.com

for C.

Like shoes
she chose for comfort,
not for style,
that fit her contours
without chafe
or blistering

Here is sanity.
It took her years to arrive,
like an explorer
settling at last
into uneasy retirement,
a small cottage
at the edge of the sea.
How the breakers crash
against the underpinnings;
still, the walls hold firm.
Hearth blazing steadily,
she tries to warm to it

tells herself
she is mature now,
this is good.
The days of stalking,
done,
the rabid pulse,
the blood-drenched kisses,
all behind her now.
Wearied, finally,
of careless cruelties,
she will stay here,
grow old

with you.
And, sensible,
lacking her gift
for self-deception,
you know she struggles
with devotion,
you listen as she
moans inside her dreams,
and watch, without remarking,
as she tracks the tap of high heels
just beyond the window,
their rhythm growing fainter
with each step.

~ Terry Wolverton