Table for Two

She sets your table, plops dinner down, and you eat.
No lust for the chore, no love for it any more, she washes dishes.
She serves you, like a debt, a duty, or a dog—for exchange.

Me, I’m dessert. I undress your mind, place desire on your table,
Luxuriate in your spine, the cup of your back, and your lips.
I serve you like a wife, a partner, and a chum—for love.

We laugh, talk, fuck, sleep, spoon, and wait, drinking in the hours
Until next we meet, a pair of arms entwined in exhausted heat.
For all that, she’s the one on the reservation, table for two.

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