She met him at the park or maybe online, or at the drugstore
picking up Rogaine for her husband and tampons for the girls
or in a chat room for SWM/SWW or Married seeking Same
or maybe she scoured other cesspool classifieds or Petrie dish dating sites of lies and lingerie,
But she found him or he found her writing their stories in pointy prose, sexy texts,
and after the first time, it was as good as it gets
without getting too much, without getting out of hand
not the same hands they hold now in their sleep,
his calloused around the nubs of the forefinger and thumb, hers picked at the edges
alone each in their separate beds dreaming–next to their rightful owners
joined hands locked intertwining the air waves
while the unsuspecting breathe another’s treacherous desire.