he is not with her
he divides his time
like wedges of lime
you have a piece
and so does she
one for the son
one the daughter
one for the *****
and tonic water

When he is with you
his head is filled with blossoms
and gardens of flowers
butterflies and highs
and ivory towers

When he is with you
there's an empty chair
at the table
and empty plate
empty glass
his side of the bed
is unwrinkled
pillows fluffed
none of his stuff
on the nightstand
just a gold band
stashed in the drawer
living like an outlaw