Why, You Ask, Do I Prefer Sleeping Alone?
It was a previous boyfriend, the motormouth,
insisting on yet another long Sunday
breakfast when I’d had enough, needed
to get the hell home and talk to no one
(not even on the phone) until Monday—
But the short answer is I’m an introvert. Still, that night
before minor surgery I got scared,
asked you to stay. Plugged into my contraption
for apnea, I slept well. You tossed,
said I sounded like Darth Vader. Besides,
you’re also a loner at bedtime, wake often
to pee, massage sore muscles.
When we meet on Saturdays, one week
at your place, one at mine, it works: slow sex
and cuddling all afternoon, then dinner
at Guru Curry House or Grand Ave. Thai
where we talk, hold hands, can’t stop
smiling, still amazed at our luck, and,
later, hugging at the bus stop
until one of us boards the #12, spent,
sleepy, waving goodbye, no need to say
I love you; it’s so obvious--
everyone on the bus is smiling, too.
Author: Gloria Bromberg
Photo: Mara Ket on Unsplash
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