Daily Poem 11/30

In the shop with the birthday card that reads
"You're 80 - Now a Valuable Antique"
the woman behind the counter explains
"I'm just smart enough to work here"
when someone asks if she is the owner.
Indonesian picture frames,
a cutting board hewn from raw cherrywood,
cat clocks,
10:00pm closing time in Waltham.
Club beats pound from the cars outside.
But it's not all butterfly magnets and salad bowls in this town.
Next door, at the sunken lifestyle store with porn on the garden level,
women wait. For someone, or for anyone?
I remember years ago
walking downstairs with my then-boyfriend
exploring Waltham for the first time and quite certain
of finding the woman-centric, sex-positive porn
that I knew.
But no--this shop was different. Not even on the bottom step
was I before I grabbed his hand and turned to go back up.
He laughed and said he told me so.
Now my husband and I live minutes from Waltham
an exciting Friday night is mulching the front yard.
In the morning he wraps his arms and legs around me and gives me butterfly kisses on my cheek until I threaten him for waking me if it's before 6.
we look at the clock.
6 on the dot.
I like a man who lives on the edge.