Neighborhood Bars and Cat Glasses

I’ve been married a year and a half he says,
from across the table where we have met for coffee.

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him.

Her name is Jean and her eyes are blue, like yours.

He doesn’t add the last line. I do that myself in my head.

He tells me of many things,
his life now with this woman who is his wife, who is not me.

We used to drink a lot, in the half-lit bars of my neighborhood.
We would sit in corners and spill tequila.
My favorite was lit with black light,
florescent fish covered the walls, the floor, the tables.
The bartender was young and thin and female
and wore old-fashioned cat glasses like my mother
did when she was young.

We would stumble home and make love on my
mattress on the floor.
I am with someone else now myself,
but still....

I’ve been married a year and a half he says,
and I wonder if I should be happy.