you
at the Front Porch
slurping your soup
and making blazing
eyes
at me
while my not at all
innocent wife
innocently ate and sat
with her back
to you
and talked to me.
When I went
to the men's room
you were back there
by the pay phone
wondering why
I didn't ask
for your
number.
Yes, I wanted you
Yes, I would later
be pierced
by regret
because I never
phoned you
never knocked on your door
never spent hours
taking you from behind.
But I was dining
with my wife
my faithless wife
and I couldn't
insult her
that way.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem