She slams the microwave shut
He slaps down the paper
“Damn it
I didn’t say
I was going to buy it”
storms out of the kitchen
She retrieves her coffee
reads the ad
Maserati: excellence through passion.
Performance and pleasure unlimited.
examines the photo
brushes her finger across
the emblem on the hood
a trident, like the spear tip
of Neptune’s statue
that watched their first kiss
in Bologna’s Piazza Maggiore
Passion, performance, pleasure
all flagging now
no lovers’ word-glue to bind them
soft words trapped in throats
sharp words escaping in a
ping-pong of recriminations
Death of a marriage
by a thousand cuts
yesterday’s in the convertible
blowing to hell her new hairdo
crafted to charm
he oblivious
tuned only to the engine
purring sweetly
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