Oregone

It lasted eighty-eight days
and two hours
to the exact minute,
since our initial contact.

Eighty-eighty days,
like the smooth keys of a piano,
as I struggled
to find her middle C.

Eighty-eighty days
of bliss, tears, semen,
laughter and nectar,
all pouring like a waterfall.

Eighty-eight days
that shine brilliantly
amongst forty-four years
of disappointment and lonelines.

Eighty-eight days
will form the foundation
for all my future anguish
and remorse through many dark nights.

Eighty-eight days
which are now relegated
to my ex-files
and my brief shining glory.

Eighty-eight days
have become the yardstick
that all women from this moment
must forever measure up to.