Believe it, Baby

the last time my lover made friends
with an unhappily married woman
it didn’t end well
– or rather it did end but not well
for the long-term health
of that particular relationship
– mine and his I mean not theirs –
except that in fact
theirs hasn’t ended yet so
it remains to be seen
whether theirs will end well
and if it doesn’t at least
it won’t have anything to do with me
since surely he’s not comparing us sexually
and having me come out on top
– ha ha no chance of that –
so if it doesn’t end well with them
he will have only
Buddha or the Pope to blame
but in retrospect
it actually ended perfectly
given that she carried him off
and freed me to wink at you
– you sexy dog –
so naturally when your phone rings
and the woman named for the wreath of victory
flashes on the screen
I feel triumphantly devastated
and the moment we shared an hour ago
– me on my knees/you convulsed –
is exposed as a sham
clearly not real despite the heat and wet
and the sheets down in the laundry
what’s real is her name digitized on your phone
and her expectant breath anticipating your hello