One night, lowering the blinds,
I saw a couple across the way
playing cards at their dinner table.
They’d laid a felt mat across
the wood: he was dealing, she arranging
her hand. From across the street
I could see her smile, or maybe imagined
it. He was talking—maybe taunting
her. Come here, I said, look at
this couple—and you said
I see them most nights. They
eat dinner and then move over
and play. They laugh
and laugh. They’re laughing
right now, I pointed out, then you reached
up and stroked my back.