Apartment 258 – Handicapped Romance

I know the time
by the sound of their steps in the hall:
it’s one forty-five
give-or-take a few minutes.

Most Saturdays like clockwork
she and a new friend
walk past my door
on the way to her place
with magnets where
their lips should have been.
Soon the magnets
will droop and find a home in their hips
and by the end they’ll fall away completely
never to attract each other again.

I don’t know how else to explain it
except that she must constantly
need a witness to her desirability.
Why else leave the blinds open every time?

And, of course, I watch –
not voyeuristically, but ashamedly
making sure he respects her boundaries.

And when I can watch no more I
unlock my door in repayment.
So when he leaves
(and they always do) she can
sneak in quietly
place the contents of her pockets
on the nightstand
and fall asleep next to me.