The couple occupying the sofa tonight,
attractive, well-matched physically, appear
unhappy. He’s dark-haired, compact, in tight,
short T-shirt, rolled jeans, sandals—unclear,
despite the girlfriend if he’s straight; he might
be open to other options. He pouts. She, sitting near,
has olive skin, hair with curls, at first sight
cool but sharp, alert of eye and ear.
They speak now and then though they’re mostly quiet,
but their demeanor is of those not speaking; here
they manage to maintain appearances all right.
But there is trouble; they won’t last the year.
He while with her seems preoccupied.
She takes a call, flashes a smile, not at him.
He turned inward; she has plans outside.
T. Allen Culpepper