he looked at me
same way I looked at him
a crave for fresh taste
a yearning for adventure
oscillating between sense and desire
he took a sip
of his vesper martini
“I probably should mention
I have a lady
at home waiting for me”
but people fall out of love
faster than withered leaves
blown off
an autumn tree
people like me
an intrudera
disturbance
a contender
only help hold their relationship
together
keep their love
from being relegated
to a bowl of
bland, uninspiring
cereals, soup, salad
routines and inertia
this morbid suffering
that we call love
propels us through
the ghastly prospect
of inevitable oblivion
with those who enjoyed the party