*An toll-free number appeared on the screen*

We sat down to a hot cup of decaf
at the winged oak table in the kitchen
of our modest colonial three-bedroom.
The children were frozen on the lawn.

We felt our toaster produce
the two slices of machine-cut bread
you bought at a Stop 'n Shop
perched by the entrance to highway 9.

The omega-3-rich margarine on my toast
reminded me of the way you spread your legs
that night in Atlantic City;
you were watching my cholesterol.

I signed my name on the 'X'
of the AARP supplemental life insurance form
framed on the Martha Stewart place mat
your mother once glued to her television set.

Steam rose from the coffee,
scattering the lines of your Libran figure.
The gym membership paid off after all.
All of it will.