Eating Lobster
She is a vegetarian,
so we talk about the strange
scent of carnivores.

She reads me a poem
about wearing purple lipstick,
back when her hair was green.

She is thin, with black hair now.

I don’t think about us
having sex. Instead,
while she reads, I think
about her eating a lobster,
breaking the shell
to get at the meat,

ripping the white
tender flesh.