Poetry: April 4th, 2006


Wednesdays were always the days that didn’t count

The days when I checked the mail

Days when it was my turn to do the dishes

Wednesdays meant nothing to no one

But you called me

While I was elbow deep in soap bubbles

And asked if I had checked the mail

And only I knew

What you were implying

And I hurriedly dried my hands

And grabbed the mail key

And put on your favorite

Peppermint chapstick

Because you always go those tingles, “everytime”

But I always insisted I had never prepared

And my lips just always tasted that wonderful

When you become shy under the lamppost on Baxter Drive

And whispered “You know youdidn’t have to”

And checking the mail-

Twice that day-

Was never so romantic

And when you called me again that night

After youth group at the Nook

You laughed and scolded me

Becuse now your toothbrush smelled like me

And I was jealous you had a scented souvenir

Because Wednesdays meant nothing

To no one

And all I had

Were dry lips

And a sink half-full of dirty dishes


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