Lover Boys

I showered with him this morning, worked lather into his skin
until it was as pink as taffy. We got out, toweled each other off,
my favorite part. He stepped onto the scale holding the wall for
support and saying words to himself I’d think were prayers if I
didn’t know better. But I got on with him this time, our two wet
bodies one weight, numbers going crazy until they stayed at 355.
We're fat, I said.

He tried to keep down toast and eggs but that face: same as the
night I'd stopped by the corner store on my way home for cheap
Merlot and my favorite candy - which he hated - a bag of black
licorice snaps. That face when I took out a piece, unwrapped the
silver cellophane, but he opened his mouth anyway and I put it
in. His eyes squinting, cheeks sucked in. Here, he said, drew me
close and pushed the wet licorice into my mouth.

This evening when we finally made love again, it was so good I
fell asleep after. I dreamed our blankets and sheets were an
endless spill of licorice - 355 pounds of it - falling from the wall,
all I could eat.

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