The Trouble with Memories

No one reaches out of the shower

To grab her towel from the shiny rack,

And no one wraps a turban

Around her dripping black hair,

And no one wears a blue velvet robe

With a sash with a double knot,

And no one saunters down the hall

Whistling a naughty striptease tune,

And no one comes into the room

Where you wait alone in the bed,

And no one ever will.  No one.