Middle of the Bed

 Middle of the Bed

Wrapping myself around Mike

in some ways felt like the days  

of sharing the old Jenny Lind bed

when Nancy & I were not yet ten.

The companionability of it,

the sisterly ease of cohabitation.  

Until prickly Nancy needed

some distance and I was left

all alone in the middle.

Pete’s bed was too narrow

to have a good middle, 

and that was too bad

because Pete was such a

good one for sharing —

anything or nothing at all.

A whole day of Pete 

was never too long.

And that seemed to be true 

for Mike and me, too—we liked

being side by side.  With him, 

even skin on skin was friendly,

fun, never too much, so we

met in the middle over & over.

Then over and over again.  We

were like the Scottie dog magnets

Pete and I had played with as kids—

until Time took me away and 

Distance reversed our poles—

as if we had never been pulled 

to the middle.  Or we now perversely

preferred to will each other away.

—Sef, 4/8/2025