The Neophyte to Infidelity

Pause
At the door,
Sniff your shirt,
Tuck it,
Un-tuck it and re-tuck,
Checking a crisp collar,
Pause.
In a moving couplet
Take two palms to the fronts of thighs
And brush away the inequities of the day.
Check pockets,
Remove evidence,
Inhale deeply--feeling cool air in the hot cavern of mouth--
And hold it.
Breathe out,
Check that breath,
Pause.
Take a moment to stare at palms,
Fan out those fingers,
Feel the creak in nervous elbows,
Run those digits through your hair.
Locate keys,
Identify the one,
Let it whisper the
Password into the lock,
Turn the handle,
Imagining its squeak confessed unpalatable
Truth.
Imagine that the truth was handled well
And that the neophyte to infidelity
Is still welcomed in the living room,
In the dining room,
In the family room,
The kitchen,
And the bedroom.