She lay in bed planning their
imaginary picnic.

It would be too hot for
cold chicken.
Maybe they’d just have
fruit salad and
tomato juice.

They would have a
brief discussion
about reincarnation and
possibly some talk of

It would be one o’clock
and sunny.
There would be pollen,
there would be sneezing
there would be “Gesundheit,”
and there would be

and it would have something to do
with springtime.


She stepped into the shower and
considered dinner.

It would be the
the French restaurant,
they would both be
slightly underdressed.

He would be bold and
order Chateaubriand
and Baked Alaska
for two.

Between the drinks
and food
there would be feet touching,
something said of tomorrow
and a question about dancing,

and it would have something to do
with a relationship.


She opened her underwear drawer—

They would come back
to her place
and listen to
Lyle Lovett.

It would be dark
and romantic
there would be lips,
hands, breasts, a penis.

They would have sex
and there would be an aggression to it

which would have something to do
with love.


And afterwards she got back into bed
and recalled
the day that occurred that morning.

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