I found another coffee table
and this time, it’ll be the last. Round. Cherry wood.
The legs curve, swell in the middle like human knees;
even the carved designs resemble wrinkles.
It was over once I fixated on the way it curls at the bottom.
Or how the drawers in the middle were finished with gold tassels
dangling from brass knobs.
I was thinking of the possibilities–the floral design, the green vase
with the Oriental design purchased last week, and magazines stacked on each
side–until you caught me hauling, you opened your mouth to spoil the fun.
You said, for the hundredth time, about my weakness for something to add
to the living room, bedroom, kitchen. Or, you read once, that the only reason
I splurged was to forget about you, the accident, the surgeries.
I denied it, so we wouldn’t have to address it or embarrass ourselves with apologies.