L'Opera

We met at the Paris Opera House when you came out from back stage, tired of demi-plies and battement tendus. You threw your arm into the street, waving, "S'il vous plait! S'il vous plait!" Your bun was coming undone and I could see the muscles in your calves defined by your leggings. I wanted to whisper s'il vous plait in your ear, hear you moan in mine. It was raining and you'd forgotten your s'il vous plait in the dressing room but I was willing to share. We stood there, on the Place de l'Opera, close enough that I could smell you, wanted to see if you tasted any different. When I kissed you, your lips were soft and warm, left traces of pink s'il vous plait on my jaw. When I asked you to come home with me, you nodded, "S'il vous plait." So I wrapped you in my jacket, watched your leggings disappear into thick wool and silk lining. We made s'il vous plait while the rain pounded down and the Eiffel tower flashed brighter. You left the next morning. I was sleeping, dreaming maybe. You pulled on your leggings, flagged down a cab in the rain.

What Mother Forgot to Tell Me

Never go anywhere empty

handed, and never, ever

without duct tape.

Marry for love

the first time but always look

for a man who thinks he's right

but listens to you anyway.

Always carry pepper spray.

Sometimes the grass really is greener

on the other side. Especially if you live

next to neighbours who ignore

the watering restrictions.

If you can't say anything nice,

don't say anything at all and don't put it in

writing unless you want there to be evidence

later.

Honesty is your best policy

but sometimes white lies can help.

Be careful what you wish for.

A private detective is your friend.

That's what they're paid for.

Buy local.

Unless it's cheaper at Walmart.

Stay low and keep your head down.

Marriage

Because it's the one his mother sold

at the garage sale. You ate popcorn

on Dad's lap as he watched

the game, wolfed back half

the cherry cake. Because she used to be

so thin.

It was where he would live

when space travel was perfected,

the one his brother bought

with the souped-up engine. Because

he's better at lying

than telling the truth.

You hid in the closet

where your mother hung

her old dresses, the one's she wore

before she was pregnant. Smelt like her

sweet perfume and dark chocolate.

Because it has a definition

for everything. Because it's easier to climb up

than down.