“You’re not the same Carl I married.”
I sit there longing to meet this guy
who was apparently a decent guy.
Where did he go?
I don’t miss the drunk.
When the drunk vacated,
I suddenly had an open road.
I cannot go back to that hell.
Where is the good part?
Who is this asshole, this gentleman
who has left town?
I want to be good for everyone,
but Carl is gone into a cyclone.
Her question deserving a robust no:
“Am I supposed to put up with this
for the rest of my life?”
Her question deserving a dopey look:
“When will you get better?”
I feel stupid about this.