Studio E

Now the beach is deserted
save for a key
unlocking an underwater
man cave
where mermaids sing Stevie Nicks
on the radio.

Elsewhere, a wife
flexes her muscles behind a glass door, watching a man record
an invitation to restore
what once was
and is still waiting
on the carpet of a third floor
bedroom.

But sad-eyed stretching is
no cure for loneliness —
not on a Pilates mat
nor inside caves of our own making.

“This one’s for you,” a guitar
said once in a dream.
“And it better last you for eternity.”

The dream nodded
and the guitar strummed.