We were eating lunch together in the employee break room
And I was just starting to feel close to you
As you’d just disclosed to me
That your husband, who you always gushed about in public, was in actuality, a pig.
The conversation shifted to swarth, then personal grooming habits.
“I can’t go a day without shaving my legs,” you said. “I just feel too icky!”
“I haven’t had pubes since the Clinton administration,” I replied.
From that day on,
I fed my half- eaten bags of potato chips to the seagulls in the park on my way home,
You had always finished the chips for me,
But now I ate lunch alone.