ON BELL STREET

I catch my wife again
crying in the upstairs bedroom
because the man across the street
is standing naked in his window.
Again.
She says it is an old form of love
and before I can do anything she has raised
the blinds and is showing him her tits.
The neighbor's face flashes with tears.

She will spend the rest of the day
asking me to account for all this sadness.
And I will sit and stare at the trees
and the deer in the carpet
and wish I could find a woman like her.