August 29, 2015 by RJ
I’m walking around the hotel pool at 10pm,
hoping that the kids are deep enough in sleep
to not wake up when we giggle trip our way
back into the room at whatever ungodly hour
my husband decides that this late night foray
into titty watching can finally draw to a close.
Alternating from his towel to the shallow end,
he imagines I’m lost in my cock-watching search,
but chubby Midwestern phalluses snapped tight
in Speedos long overdue for Goodwill do nothing for me.
Deciding to call his bluff, I go back into the water,
And he retreats to the deep end, where
I can’t follow – my long known tendency to stone –
He’s chasing the appearance of Shangri-La,
but in all reality it is the walking personification
of hepatitis C. He still flirts like he’s nineteen.
Heather Sullivan has appeared or has work forthcoming in Corium Magazine, Busted Dharma and Chiron Review. She lives in Revere, MA with her family and a small herd of cats.