The clerk working in the bank
Itching his legs under the desk and getting up to go the bathroom
For the third time this hour.
He walks home after work.
It has been raining and water pools on the footpath
And drips from the shop awnings.
At home, he stands in his kitchen and heats up
A packet of noodles.
Outside it begins to rain again and his little window mists over.
The water boils in the saucepan slowly,
Like a bath.
He has talked his neighbour into going out with him.
She is a small woman, with a friendly smile.
He meets her at her front door,
She is wearing a blue dress with blue buttons
He is wearing a brown polo shirt.
He takes her to the movies.
Afterwards, they walk along the pier
And eat spiralised potatoes.
She tells him about her last boyfriend,
And how he drank too much
He listens with a pretend interest,
Hiding his annoyance.
Back in her apartment
She puts a movie on Netflix
And they sit down to watch for a while,
Until yawning, she asks him to come into the bedroom
And they have sex.
He leaves at two am
Feeling the dampness that the night brings
And the dampness that this kind of love brings
And he sleeps a deep sleep
That only the numb can sleep.
In the morning he wakes late and has to rush to work.
She wakes late, and not having to start work until the afternoon
She takes a bath.
She makes it as hot as she can
And watches the clouds through the skylight
And wonders what the day will bring.
Calmly she thinks about last night;
As if youth lasted forever.
Reblogged this on boofey2010.
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