My Ex-Husband By Gabriel Spera


My Ex-Husband                                                                                               Gabriel Spera




That's my ex-husband pictured on the shelf,

Smiling as if in love. I took it myself

With his Leica*, and stuck it in that frame

We got for our wedding. Kind of a shame

To waste it on him, but what could I do?

(Since I haven't got a photograph of you.)

I know what's on your mind-you want to know

Whatever could have made me let him go-

He seems like any woman's perfect catch,

What with his ruddy cheeks, the neat mustache,

Those close-set, piercing eyes, that titled grin.

But snapshots don't show what's beneath the skin!

Sure, he'd a certain charm, charisma, style,

That passionate, earnest glance he struck, meanwhile

Whispering the sweetest things, like "Your lips

Are like plump rubies, eyes like diamond chips,"

Could flush the throat of any woman, not

Just mine. He knew the most romantic spots

In town, where waiters, who all knew his face,

Reserved an intimately dim-lit place

Half-hidden in a corner nook. Such stuff

Was all too well rehearsed, I soon enough

Found out. He had an attitude-how should

I put it-smooth, self-satisfied, too good

For the rest of the world, too easily

Impressed with his officious self. And he

flirted-fine!but flirted somehow a bit

Too ardently*, too blatantly, as if,

If someone ever noticed, no one cared

How slobbishly he carried on affairs.

Who'd lower herself to put up with shit

Like that? Even if you'd the patience-which

I have not-to go and see some counsellor

And say, "My life's a living hell," or

"Everything he does disgusts, the lout*!"-

And even if you'd somehow worked things out,

Took a long trip together, made amends

Let things get back to normal, even then

You'd still be on the short end of the stick;

And I choose never ever to get stuck.

Oh, no doubt, it always made my limbs go

Woozy when he kissed me, but what bimbo

In the steno* pool went without the same

Such kisses? So, I made some calls, filed some claims,

All kisses stopped together. There he grins,

Almost lovable. Shall we go? I'm in

The mood for Chez Pierre's, perhaps, tonight,

Though anything you'd like would be all right

As well, of course, though I'd prefer not to go

To any place with checkered tables. No,

We'll take my car. By the way, have I shown

You yet those lovely champagne flutes, hand blown,

Imported from Murano, Italy,

Which Claus got in the settlement for me!


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