I wonder what it would be like
if we found ourselves in the past
married, because society
would demand it, thronging
our cottage with pitchforks
and torches, sending us off
to honeymoon in some bucolic
by-the-sea, where you'd find
yourself
mine,
constantly subject in any
given moment to your clothes
coming off and giving yourself
with abandon, sexually possessed
and possessing wildly, willingly
because you'd been conditioned to?
"These are our roles," you'd think
"How fit!" Like we had a choice,
we'd choose them again and again
giving into it horribly, like
some trashy historical romance
novel, read together in bed
for laughs, left behind
at a bed and breakfast
by some other couple,
not us.
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