an affair in south florida - temptation
she wipes her mouth with a silk handkerchief
her mother gave her when she graduated summa cum laude
from Florida State University, in 1972.
her eyes dig into mine as tries to breathe in my soul,
just as she tried with her bright red lips and garish pink tongue.
you cannot steal that which is not owned.
phone rings, another client, better deal.
i ask her about Saturday, she glares as she buttons her blouse
and walks from the room.
an affair in south florida – his turn
i watch
as he
exits
a motel
on the edge
of a swamp,
50 miles
north of his
marital bed,
and a wife
that spends
most afternoons
snorting
cocaine
and seducing
young men
from a nearby
college.
he does not
see me,
he is preoccupied
with his
thoughts,
his infidelity.
another man
appears a
minute later
and walks
in a different
direction,
gets in
a Cooper Mini,
and drives away.
big fat
raindrops
begin to
fall as a
tropical storm
sweeps
into the
area.
it’s Tuesday
around 9am.
the postman will be here
soon.
an affair in south florida - confrontation
he walks in the front door,
a metal bell rings his announcement.
i look up from the sports page
and smile in contempt.
i know him from a picture his wife
carries in her Dolce and Gabbana pocketbook,
the one with crisp $100 dollar bills utilized as my payment
five bills at a time.
he has a series of lovers, she does as well.
neither party knows about the others infidelities.
at least,
not yet.
he thinks i am the bad guy.
for once in his life he picked the right man.
a black cat pauses at the threshold, just so i see him.
there’s another storm waiting to slide into town.
an affair in south florida – almost an ending
i light a cigarette
and sit on the edge of a rented bed
covered in a threadbare, stained comforter,
wearing black socks
and red satin boxers.
she asks me a question,
i do not hear her.
she asks me again,
i do not respond.
the wind raps against double-paned glass
old growth oak trees bend and moan
as the far horizon blackens and lightning
cracks a mile away.
i think he knows,
she says.
as she stands naked
before me, offering me a beer.
the cops will soon find him,
i think, and she’ll be the prime suspect.
i’ll watch from the courtroom
and have nothing to say.
an affair in so florida – sad face emoji
the evidence is sketchy.
the prosecutor is inept.
the defense attorney is prepared.
the defendant just plays her part,
with precision and grace.
she walks out free and clear after a mistrial declared.
i open an umbrella and walk her to her car.
she kisses me like a sister.
the executor awarded her nothing but lint
her husband’s lover, Eduardo, left with a deed to it all.
i sat in my car, across the street, under
an old elm, watching the participants exit
in single file.
i had already received my check, services rendered,
weeks later a client walks through my front door.
she is beautiful, and crying.
i think he’s cheating.
i stare as if caring, and say,
please, tell me more.
bio: jck hnry is a california/arizona desert-based writer/editor. recent publications include: madness muse, rat's ass review, litterateur, newington press, rogue wolf, fleas on the dog, dissident voice, and others. sometime in 2021 a new book, "driving w/crazy," will be released by Punk Hostage Press. for more please see jackhenry.wordpress.com.
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