“Can’t you write something your grandmother could read?” 

Mother West Coast, a home—a stately Cape Cod house. BABY—what, exactly am I missing?

Eros.
Face it.
Love. 
Confess IT. 

The spouse!
His flaws? 
Corporate climbing.
Yours? 
Kissing
rubescent lips…(Psilocybin soaked sex?)

East Coast met That Boho—yes?
No love lost.

Think of BABY, first. 
And the Windex?
Yes.
Just confess. The Tarzan Lover. The cost.

Baby sleeps. 
Tarzan melts your sheets? 
What if!

The Jones. Relapse. Fix. Nothing finer—
he’s firm, Golden, a warrior?
A gift.

And spouse exits, next—when?
Today, China.

Well done Happy Housewife. (Pretty Liar).
Coast is clear
Baby sleeps.
And you are Fire.