college-aged women purr along with Fiona Apple
as they prune in the pool outside our
window on a Wednesday night.
we share a quiet smile, a knowing
look, the two of us packaged into bed
like a pair of Little Debbie treats.
he rolls back to sleep, his snoring
out of cadence with the music
beyond our window.
I return to my book of essays and
the cat burrows in a dark corner of the closet.