The street stands still and distracts
my driving. I miss
the exit to your house
and add another mile or so.
It’s fine, though. It’s old hat
at this point.
I see you standing in the doorway
wearing the silk nightgown we ordered
It leaves little to the imagination.
Your animated smirk says “I’m ready”,
your eyes conceal the truth.
You greet me with a playful “hey, tiger”,
and I still don’t have the heart to tell you
how much I detest “tiger” as a pet name.
Your kiss tastes of gin and lime.
I prepare myself for imminent sadness.