They aren't all about this living in sin.

A coworker of mine gave in
and decided to buy my old car
that had been sitting in the back yard
for almost five months
covered in leaves, then in snow.
I was outside cleaning it off
and shoving its contents
into garbage bags
to be assessed at a later date.
She bundled herself up
in at least four layers
and came out back to help me.
It went much faster that way.
A lot of things did.

"Ohhh," she sighed softly while
tentatively stretching her hand
towards the trunk as
we stood there looking
at the old beater
that was almost as vacant as our stares.
I knew what she was feeling.
She didn't need to elaborate.
I won't either.

We walked to the porch
shook the snow off
and entered the warmth of the house.
I went upstairs, undressed
and prepared to take a shower.

Ten minutes later
with the bathroom window fogged
and shampoo lathered thickly in my hair
a knock came at the door.
"Come in," I said while trying not to get
any soap in my eyes.
"How do you make a Midori Sour?"
she asked from the dry side
of the shower curtain.
I spat between my feet and watched it
float towards the drain.
"Melon Liqueur and Sour Mix,"
I said, "shaken with some ice."

"Ohhh," she responded innocently
and for the second time that day
the same syllable made me melt
as I fell, well, you know
all over again.