Not Like the Movies

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,
hair disheveled,
mouth scrunched on your pillow,
looking like a cabbage patch doll.

And I still want to kiss you.

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A Writer’s Ego

A Poem by Wayne Scheer

I was reading a poem
I was writing
to my wife,
when I turned,
expecting an admiring comment,
and discovered
she wasn’t there.

It didn’t matter.
I kept reading anyway,
finding the sound
of my voice
enchanting.

Mojo

A Poem by Wayne Scheer
 
Mojo, the neighbor’s cat,
old, blind, deaf, arthritic,
kidneys failing–
 
We watch our friend’s
three year-old daughter
while she takes the cat
to be put to sleep.
 
The child, always happy,
chatters about Mojo
going to heaven
and how butterflies
aren’t made with real butter.