She imagines the noontime
screw,
the museum trip,
the first fight
that no one wins,
and she envisions
the close night after --
Hello again -- followed by
tossings,
achings,
lickings,
and wrappings;
neck to neck,
indeed, they become
that corner couple,
the same-siders,
and all watchers
love to hate them
because "their song”
is any tune
that blends into noise,
the way that laughter
becomes loud enough,
fading into any
crowded room.
C.A. MacConnell
