Desperation

She smoothed the rumpled sheet
And fluffed the pillow
Restoring the bed
To its
Never been loved-in
Condition.

It was so easy.
Nothing to it.
No traces remained
Of her infidelity
Nothing to indicate
The activities of the afternoon.

She would make dinner
And listen
While her husband complained
Of his stupid boss
And the litany
Of unfair corporate policies.

The baby would stir her hands
Through the pudding
While her husband droned on
With cheese sauce on his chin
Clumsily re-telling the dirty joke
His cube mate told at lunch.

She would sit in the wing back
In the corner
And watch him watch basketball
Groaning and moaning
Sometimes cheering
At the figures on the flat screen.

The baby would need a bath
The bed-time ritual would repeat
While her husband leaned toward
His fifty two inch flat screen
Spilling beer and profanity
Onto her Berber carpet.

She would turn back the covers
Sliding between the sheets
His scent on the pillow
She could inhale him
And weep as she considered
The depth of her despair.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
She had it all planned out.
She once loved her husband
Or the man he used to be
But desperation changes things
Changes everything.

All she knows is
When he walks into the house
Takes her in his arms
Rumples the sheets
Her body and her heart
She feels happy and desirable again.

Her husband would stumble to bed
Ask in a throaty whisper
“So do ya wanna?”
She would pretend sleep
Knowing he wants her
The way he wants a beer.

She would stare into the dark
Thinking how good he made her feel
The way his eyes flashed
When he drank in her body.
He made her feel special
Made her feel good again.

But there was no way out
And she knew it.
So tomorrow she would say farewell
To the man she loved
In favor of the husband she did not.

And when her husband returned home
She would make broccoli
For him to stick between his teeth.