Well, whatever her reasons
They had nothing to do
With the way he looked

John could have posed
For G.Q., then and now
Ginger wasn’t too bad looking
Either, and only if you looked
Deep enough into her
Eyes might you have
Seen the restless
Candle burning.

But they were happy
And had three children
And the Good Life
Or what passes for it
These days in the
Middle classless
United States

And you have to wonder
If his frailty, and resulting
Surgery
Made her pine for
Intimacy he could
No longer give

Or maybe she blamed
Him for the wayward
Son, and his turning
To the pipe and rolled up
Dollar bill to make
The trip from day
To day.

And knowing
Of such things
You can see how
A shoulder leant
To her during
A tearful moment
Could have turned
Into an embrace
And an embrace
Into nights in beds
That weren’t
Their own

But that is
Speculation. It is just
As likely John was
Unapproachable
And Ginger found
A man who could help her
Understand a world
She never imagined
When she was at
The altar swearing
This would all be
Theirs ‘til death
Them do part.

Nowadays, death comes slower
Than it did, and its sheath has
Many daggers. We can
Swear oaths to fidelity
While gowned in lace
That life, that wily burglar,
Steals from us a year
Or lifetime later.

And maybe it is not
Weakness to stray
So much as it is
Blind fate. After all
No bride
At her own reception
Ever thinks she
Will wind up
In another lover’s bed.

Curious soul that
I’m known to be
I only wonder
When and where
She planted the
Seed, and how,
And why it grew.

And all I’ll say is,
I know that garden well.

05/26/2011

Posted on 05/26/2011
Copyright © 2025 Ken Harnisch