Her Lover As Luck Would Have It

art by Stephanie Ann Farra

by Dana Salisbury

  

* 
Headshot--
one knobby shoulder higher than the other
narrow torso 
tiny wideset nipples 
swirling chest hair defining sternum, breast, rib cage 
a smattering of old-man arm-hairs 

cocked head
big red ears
stringy red neck 
scraggly shoulder-length fine light brown hair
only fuzz left on top

high forehead 
lightly furrowed semicircular brow 
solid nose, long upper lip
craggy cheeks
short scruffy blond and white beard

self-accepting eyes 
that look straight at you
narrow lips 
wide slightly-cockeyed closed-mouth smile 
that would laugh if you will too

* 
In the bedroom. It was always in the bedroom  
Well sometimes they started on the couch or on the way upstairs
Things that didn’t count-- none 
Things that didn’t count-- everything 
She did not forget her dead husband 
She let things be 
The place she unwound was against his skin
Each day was perfect
The same contradictions remained
The last time they were together they both came so quickly they were embarrassed
She learned how each day has its own shape
There was no erasure in the forgetting 
Simply time had passed
Nothing was forgotten
The past did not weigh on her
They had anticipated something else 
Then their relationship got real in unexpected ways 
She forgot what she’d thought was so important and chose instead
to handle something temporary and intrinsically unstable, to learn its songs
The real lessons were the wind always blows in and out 
And everything is still here

* 
She’d leave her back door unlocked 
Before dawn he’d kiss her awake and be gone by breakfast 
Early shift days he’d stop by midafternoon 
Days off he’d lose a few hours between the market and pet food store
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! 
Skin!! Skin!! Skin!!
I love your smell
They vied to take all of the other’s weight 
They were all in 
The joy would last as long as it did 
If only they had understood this years ago

They looked the same age though she was 15 years older 
He was beat to shit from long years of hard work
They met about once a week for two maybe three hours virtually all spent fucking 
He was invariably eager
His stamina matched hers
Afterward they were perfectly content to separate

There was an unpredictable ebb and flow to their meetings
They were both flip and prim 
Sometimes she felt him to be utterly blank
Sometimes she was utterly blank herself
They’d wait it out companionably, joke around

They had met outside her house only three times 
at a café on the day they met 
over brunch the next day before fucking for the first time 
once to hike around a lake near where he lived 
He cooked lunch for them once and left the kitchen for her to clean up 
Beyond that he’d never accepted anything except water or sips from her cup of tea

They never spoke on the phone 
Their texts were brief-- setting dates, goofy gushings, emojis, now and then something earnest
If the other wasn’t feeling well they checked in
Holidays and her birthday he brought her tiny gifts or minuscule supermarket plants 
She gave him a piece of art she’d made and they fashioned a story so he could take it home

They knew bits and pieces of each other’s lives but not much
He got along well with his wife but she refused sex
He hadn’t seen her naked in over 10 years
He covered his tracks quietly as a matter of course
Dissimilar work schedules simplified his evasions

They decided that what they were doing was none of his wife’s business 
They were mostly un-anguished by their secrecy 

She’d tip her head to one side and listen for what he would say into her ear
an aside or comment or odd fact 
but all he ever talked about was her and pleasing her and how much she pleased him
If pressed he offered surprising yet intelligent well-informed opinions
He was always happy to listen to her if she wanted to talk
Maybe it was true when he said he had nothing he needed to say 

* 
It hit them all of a sudden one day that they were happy
She wanted to see it somehow so they took pictures of themselves after making love
They stood naked in front of the mirror and held a camera in front of themselves 
In the photo they looked like old etchings of Adam and Eve
not at all perfect but at home in their bodies without shame or vanity 
His arc of his dick was clearly visible still partially hard and violet 
His arm wrapped around and rested on a roll of flesh at her waist 
They were full with comfort and trust 
They understood such ease isn’t promised 
One day they’d lose this  
Until then, they’d continue 
 
In every aspect of their lives save this, they were ill-suited for each other 
But undressed they couldn’t help enjoying themselves
Their bodies just loved one another 
The barmy idea that such an unseemly pair would find one another made them laugh 
and feel very lucky 

This is not what they had expected but somehow it was what they longed for 
Please please, they’d think, let’s let this happen 
When I’m gone, they’d say, I’m gone

* 
Neck down (from memory)--
medium height
lean
slightly bowed (the bow of archery, not a supplicant’s bow) 
narrow lopsided shoulders
protruding collar bones
triangular torso 
nested puppy nipples, miniscule noses poking out 
skinny arms 
thicker forearms
nicks and scars from burns and incisions 
hands thick-skinned and stiff 
trigger fingers
skin luminously alive to touch except on hands and forearms 
nearly hairless, childlike and vulnerable below navel 
straight medium-size dick  
surprisingly smooth balls
one or two cock rings
vestiges of weight shed long ago on buttocks and flanks 
delicate legs of nearly invisible muscle mass
pliable hip joints 
indefatigable knees that flexed deep as a frogs’
sturdy feet
quick and efficient movement 
quiet and intent as a blue-eyed cat

* 
Corrections (after their next meeting in the flesh, embarrassed how much she misremembered or forgot to include)--
hair pale and fine seemingly defined by light 
individual strands nearly invisible yet would snag in sheets 
or insinuate themselves into her socks 
baby smooth, milky white skin
pink V at shirt collar
keystone-shaped patch of hair tidily outlining chest 
hints of hair on back and forearms 
shaved pubes
slender properly proportioned arms
forearms tight as drums, soft uppers
tidy feet about size of hers

* 
Sometimes his right eye would involuntarily squinch as he closed in for a kiss 
The Popeye squint creeped her out 
She’d tease him about it and they’d laugh 
They discovered every kind of kiss imaginable 
Sometimes they’d touch just tips of tongues and breathe into each other’s open mouth

* 
Once in the beginning she called him her boyfriend 
He demurred and he never contradicted her
So she asked well then what are you?
He paused for a moment then said I’m your friend and lover
This satisfied them both and they continued to call each other friend, lover or by their first name

* 
With a whole house to themselves and the privacy to make noise she bellowed, screamed, growled
She had no idea she had that in her and that it needed to get out

*
She told him he made her feel like a sheaf of golden wheat falling open in a light-struck field

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