you bring to the table the color brown

brown of hair   brown of eyes   of all your talents   

i love most the way you part your hair

across the table i see you in a mirror

dressing as i imagine girls did during the war 

in wool that wears like iron   one of us is writing these words

you take the story of wendy sewing on peter pan's shadow

very seriously   frowning throughout   

and make me tell it to you

after we make love in lieu of cigarettes

the two of us trading stories   staring at the ceiling   

yours are tragic   did ever a smile come out of your country