The Bitch from Bidding

She is the bitch from bidding

Alone with your husband in his car

Driving through Friday darkness

On the sleepless roads of NCR

She feels entitled to dinner in some

Lovely quiet place,

To midnight calls and private pictures,

To slowly take up all the space.

But space does not disappear

It is cleared chair by chair

A husband moves his wife aside,

Then says nobody was ever there

He calls the pictures an accident,

The midnight call coincidence,

The dinner work,

The secrecy nothing.

And asks you to abandon common sense.

She may be the bitch from bidding,

But he is the man who let her in,

She did not enter through a crack

He opened the door wide from within.