Water Off A Duck’s Back Inn
Well, I guess we’re stuck with each other.
It looks that way.
It could have been worse.
I suppose so.
No, really. Just think of the possibilities.
I could have been stuck with a monkey grinder.
Exactly. And one who ate garlic raw.
You see. We’re getting along better already.
I wouldn’t go that far. We have a long history.
Are you feeling hot? I’m sweating.
I’m fine. Maybe you’re uncomfortable with what I said.
No. That’s not it. It’s close in here.
Of course. We’re like in one body.
Yeah. It’s like that.
That shouldn’t bother you. You like it that way.
What do you mean?
I said you like it very close.
What are you implying?
Nothing. I said what I meant.
No. Tell me. You meant something else.
Yes. You did. Tell me.
Well I’ve seen you.
Yeah. Seen me what?
I’ve seen you looking.
So. Everyone looks.
Yeah, but you look at everyone.
I do not.
You do. I’ve seen you look at the curves of rear ends.
I only look at women’s rears.
I don’t think so. I’ve seen you.
How would you like to do it?
That’s very original.
Look just tell me if you like saunas?
Everyone who joins a gym uses the sauna. You know there’s just no getting along with you.
I feel the same way about you. Look it’s not a big deal. A man’s rear might look like a granite formation in Yosemite. Smooth. Solid. Enduring. It draws the eyes.
So what are you saying?
I’m saying it’s chic. Give it a rest.
Are you for real?
Are you religious?
Don’t bring up that subject.
Okay I won’t. It’s boring anyway.
So, what’s next?
I don’t know. We’ll play it by ear.
You’re being childish.
What’s wrong with children?
You’re like my father. Always changed the subject.
Outside the bay window, they saw two ducks floating on the pond. The wind was coming up and blowing the tail feathers. They helped themselves to the preening fluid there. One of the ducks took the fluid and preened the other. They had mated for the season. Next season there would be another mate.
Shadows were beginning to fill in the crevices between things in the room.
You want to get some dinner at the restaurant in town?
You sure you don’t mind being seen with me?
Why should I?
Well, we are in our forties and single.
You know what people say.
Jack Galmitz was born in 1951 in NYC. Though an older man, he doesn’t write poems about his libido and find words to rhyme with it. He is published in Otoliths, otata, And/Or, Poetica Review, and many other sites.