Four stools down One of those elemental issues

Mushrooms and spores out bitter.

That DNA thing, reptile baggage, 

Still lies between them

Coiled up tight

Afraid to look scaly

But prepared to slither.

Her incisors jaw-clack

Then close to break crust

As an old dynamic of bit bread

And missed meat recurs

To stare her down again.

She cries

While he explains he didn't mean to.

Jane was there

And it just happened

Didn't mean anything.

So she sniffles and chokes back

Tears that mingle

With the whole wheat

And mayonnaise she's chewing.

He hugs her. Our eyes meet.

He winks like I am

A co-conspirator because I'm male

Then reaches out a claw

To dry her tears.

She mistakes it for a hand

And begins again

This oceanic cycle

Of affection

And evaporation

That's driving drought

Deep through the middle

Of her youth.