The Apartment
The stairs angled up the outside
Of the building like those I climbed
To the first apartment I lived in,
After I got married the first time.
He was an anthropology major,
His girlfriend archaeology.
She wanted him to move in there with her,
But it’s easy to see why he
Balked; at home he lived all the suburban
Comforts: carpet, quiet plumbing, spacious,
Fresh rooms his mommy kept tidy, plus his daddy’s
Computer to write term papers on.
A second story apartment in Old Town sucks:
Noisy neighbors, roaches (I saw a big one
Race down the ragged arm
Of the sofa and zoom
Into a crack in the baseboard),
Little closet space, no garage;
Convenient walking distance to campus
Hoists the rent to scandalous.
But while his girlfriend spent six weeks digging in Africa,
We put it to use a couple of July afternoons.
His fresh youth promised a good romp
As he bulged a yeasty readiness—but alas!
He lacked skill with his master tool,
But still his succulent lips and skillful tongue
Put a bounce in the balls of my feet
As they mounted those stairs two at a time.
Linda's Literary Home 