Your glare at me seems to have <br />a million meanings - <br />none of them good, <br />yet they all revolve around the <br />same cycle of life. <br />As we listen to <br />The Moody Blues, <br />your eyes ask, <br />Why are you looking at me <br />so funny? <br /> <br />After you find the <br />crumpled bag in the trash, <br />your piercing stare asks, <br />Why did you eat all the <br />Doritos, you pig? <br />And speaking of trash, <br />your seemingly malicious, <br />yet unspoken <br />queries continue, <br />Why the hell haven't you <br />taken it out yet? <br />I've told you a thousand times, <br />The garbage man picks up on <br />Wednesday mornings! <br /> <br />I try to disappear <br />into the couch, <br />like a cornered mouse, <br />buying time while <br />plotting to dart out from the <br />approaching claws of a cat. <br />Your eyes scream <br />that the remote control, <br />located inches away from my <br />now withdrawing fingers, <br />is more important to me than <br />you are. <br /> <br />Your look continues <br />with the complaint that <br />I was like a dead fish <br />in bed last night. <br />Oh my God, I think, <br />Here comes the <br />once-a-month <br />'Our love life sucks' <br />lecture. <br /> <br />Just as I begin believing my <br />'I'm just a selfish, <br />incompetent boob' <br />theory, <br />I remember, <br />and say to myself, <br />for the hundredth time, <br /> <br />She's having: <br /> <br />'A Kotex Moment'.<br /><br />Jeffrey Philip Clegg<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tuesday-afternoon/
