those times you sit on the corduroy couch,
your eyes red-hued,
your sotto voce a quiet shout.
Then the balloon of my stubborn dickishness
filling the room with a sad silence,
so quiet the corduroy doesn't even ripple.
down your face,
making a maze on your cheeks
clean from the shower.
I was a dick about it, I finally say.
I'm sorry, I say.
Me too, you say.
The whole sofa
applauds with delight.