A Poem by Wayne Scheer
You know how in the movies
lovers wake up after a night
we can only imagine,
not a hair out of place,
entangled in each other’s arms,
and the first thing they do
is smile at one anther and kiss?
Well, how come his arm isn’t sore
from her laying on it all night,
and forget the morning breath,
and the perfect hair,
don’t they have to pee?
I squint to see you in the morning light,
mouth scrunched on your pillow,
looking like a cabbage patch doll.
And I still want to kiss you.