In loving memory of Jane Cooney Baker, who died before her time.

I'm so sorry, Sophie
and Olivia, it could've been grand
but none of us will ever know
'cause there was nothing quite like good times
at the expense of unsuspecting women
back then.

"Repent," he told himself
but it was not quite as easy
as getting rid of a broken toaster oven.
It was more like the aftertaste of milk.

It had been awhile since he'd heard from her
and he was hoping she said "He's a Hitler,"
but he was wrong, and the bruises
she went to work with for two weeks
proved it.

Then there was the one who'd pant his name
every other breath. She'd be reminding him
of whom he was trying to forget he was
while straightening her eyes
until the sun came up and the party rolled off
of their respective couches.

Again, the toaster didn't stand a chance
but I'm still brushing dairy teeth

and by the way, whose is that toothbrush
that's been on the vanity in my bathroom
untouched for over six months?
I'm throwing it out now.
This packrat lets go eventually.

Well, mostly.

It's a hard town to drive through still
avoided like the plague, the scene of a crime
the young Bohemian couples holding hands
because though I've since retrieved it in Another Form
I was robbed of something there once
and I blame it all on German engineering.

It's all just more
of the same soap opera
with less weddings--
a shoebox full
of many perfumed letters.

There are melodies lingering
in your head that you've forgotten
are there, but that makes them
no less real
and you no more innocent.

I put a knot in my hair
that I had to rip out
while watching a movie
the other night
and now I know how she feels.

I told all this to the rabbit
but she just cocked her head
and looked at me funny.
Our conversations have been
one-sided lately
the novelty of my presence
having worn its welcome
since I'm laid off and home all the time now.

So the King of Pronouns plays it safe again
though changing names and places
may still hurt the Dearly Departed
and more important Others.

A man like me has no choice.

Lo siento, Mi Amor...
con palabras como besitos.