coconut oil, slicked down
my legs in your lap, floppy sun hat, a dress
resembling those 1970s knitted hanging pot
holders.
reading a magazine, about bulbs.
barely glancing as you tell me about the day,
wiggling my toes so you rub my feet
while you lecture me.
staring at the empty spaces in the flower bed,
briefly thinking about our dark bedroom tonight,
and considering which color of wisteria
matches the munstead lavender mostest.
and you reach your climactic point -
about whatever it was and i smile sweetly,
lean over and kiss you,
and say "you are wonderful, dear".
and you, pleased with yourself,
nod triumphant, and begin sketching something new.
â´².