Julie Hart
Different Thread Count
On Park Avenue
in Park Slope
on park benches
in parking lots
“I thought he loved me:
then why did he hide millions from me in the Cayman Islands?”
“I thought he loved me:
then why doesn’t he bring the stroller up the stairs
when he comes back from jogging with the baby?”
“I thought he loved me:
then why didn’t he give me half of his drugs?”
“I thought he loved me:
then why did he leave me here bleeding?”
And/Or--
“I thought she loved me:
she should know by now I have to hit my number.”
“I thought she loved me:
this stroller thing can not be why she’s mad at me!”
“I thought she loved me:
by body weight, I did give her half--a little more.”
“I thought she loved me:
only somebody who loved me would let me touch her at all.”
From three-hundred count crisp Egyptian cotton pima
to polyblend jersey sheets from Target
to a down jacket thrown on the ground.
Different thread count.
Same old story.
