i wasn’t looking for him
that fateful day in may
when we shared an elevator
in the 4th & race tower
i had business going up
but the look in his eyes
told me he was thinking of a merger
as he was going down
we fell immediately
he was more f. lee bailey
than atticus finch
as we sat side by side
corner booth clandestine
in the federal reserve bar
skyline glistening
him whispering
meticulously explaining his intentions
to remove my clothes as we sat there
ice dripping from our manhattans
softly
his fingers traced my cleavage with desire
such well-tailored
justifications we both wore
as we disregarded
his wife
my husband
and the groceries in the car
so many pairs of new heels
bottles of perfume
and panties purchased
in his honor
hiding hotel keys and receipts
within our comfortable suburban ruts
a trail of miniature shampoos
and complimentary soaps
left behind in our quiet footsteps
we burned beautifully
as we used each other for warmth
for the heat of fire
sometimes we would stroll through bromwells pretending
one day we would share a hearth
even jimmy the bellman was
gladly complicit
winking and smiling
passing messages back and forth in the art deco lobby
of our grand love affair
how careful we were
so many afternoons we rose
together
coming
to the 14th floor
passion torn open with desperate kisses
atop a mahogany desk
before retreating to wayward text messages
and running errands that didn’t need running
to sneek in a phone call
these delicious tuesdays
were not enough
to sustain us
how we suffered for each other
until the rainy afternoon
i drove into the city
to surprise him for lunch
on the wrong day
and saw his face under the portico
buried in the hair of the wednesday blonde
i laughed aloud at the instant karma
and the thought of being the tuesday brunette
as he was
my tuesday bald guy
