The Time Traveler's Widow

Her train ran late
but better than never.
The hug was expected.
The kiss threw me off.
Somewhere in limbo
wherever that is
a roomful of naysayers*
craned their stiff necks.
(*our friends whom we'd slept with
without covering tracks)

No elephant lurked
in the room where we laid.
There wasn't a better
excuse to call in.
Well behaved hands
with saintly restraint
gripped certain curves
they'd almost forgotten
like a buoy in current
like a place to raise kids.
(If only more of this recital were true.)

The morning was long.
We dove under covers.
She was hungover, I was
in bliss.
There wasn't a smear
of mascara to speak of.
There wasn't a tear
I'd ever admit.

But you can't hang on
to what isn't yours
so I traded kids' waffles
for a beverage we'd like:
complex Bloody Marys
at a spot where I'd had
much like years back
the best of my life.

Let it serve as a testament
to the art of forgiveness--
there in the daylight
she smiled in earnest.
It's got nothing to do
with what I deserve.
Fate works in circles.
Nothing seems strange.