Vindicated

As he waded through DVDs in hunt of one with a concert of the Cure,
Jennifer cracked his concentration, strutted with a pack of girls,
all working their eight-hour shifts during his time to shop.
Her eyes turned his toward hers and in a blink shared snapshots
of the months they spoke words without awkward silences,
conversations about the weather and the meaning of life.
Their mouths undressed each other until they stood only in briefs,
even the rouge on their cheeks thrown beside their shoes.

Then he let slip down the final veil. Eyes fluttered away,
out of the room, out of the world, as far from him as the sun
from the dark side of Pluto. Rattling hands dove for her clothes
and cloaked her nakedness. She smiled, fully concealed,
inched toward the door as he kneed forward with a heart storming
for her. He offered it with two hands. She denied it with one.

There, in the aisle, her puppy eyes panted for his attention,
purred against his leg for favor. He rolled his eyes to the DVDs,
but focused on the corner where she stood with a head tipped
downward as her eyes rushed from the light. He tightened
and faked interested in a few DVDs as he stared at her crawl
into the backroom, still until the door snuffed her existence.
Then he stepped out into a rainstorm and showered in it
through the walk to his car eager to return tomorrow.

Critique

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