Every Second Day Poem by Gert Strydom

Every second day
the woman living next door
comes to complain,
professedly to ask for advice

about her husband
that left
with a hussy

and from involvement
with this thing
I keep myself,
not that I am scared
for it to happen
with me as well,
but in her grief
I cannot partake

and sometimes she tells
about antics
with other lovers
and about making love
to them
and this is where I excuse myself quickly

and so it happens
that time passes quickly
and one day the husband is back
and the two of them
sit next door on the porch
in love with each other.