F

“You’re an F-ing
Idiot!”
She snarled.
His heart flamed with anger
With malice.
But he said nothing.

“I hate
You”
She said.
“I wish you were

Dead!”
He also wished he were dead.
He felt like an F-ing idiot
For having married her.

She threw his briefcase
Across their bedroom.
Gouging the drywall.

“F
You!”
She screamed.
He sat on the edge of the bed
Imagining the satisfaction
He would feel
Were he to throw her
Across the room.

“I’m gonna take a fistful
Of pills”
She taunted
“Then you’ll be

Sorry.”
He wondered where those pills were.
He would provide the water.

“You’re not a
Man”
She sniveled.
“A man wouldn’t sit there
And take

This”
She spat
Tearing a fistful of pages
From his new hardcover book.

He imagined she was right.
He should stand up
And put his fist
Through her nasty mouth.
But he sat there
Awaiting the next barrage.

“F
You”
She said
Walking out of the bedroom.
“I’m taking the truck
And ramming it

Into
A train.”
This time he spoke.
The blood-red half ton
Fully fueled
Was in the driveway.
A train would demolish
The truck he had just hand polished.
He loved his truck
Laughing at the irony
That it was labeled
A Ram.
But Rams were made every day.

“The key’s on the table”
He said
Smiling.

“F
You.”