For Jacqueline, in the event it’s ever okay to laugh about this
One day I hope I can look with a
Contented distance on the woman
Accepting anniversary love advice,
Knowing happily that she needed it more than, say,
Running shoes, support to *her own* ankles,
Being surplus to current requirements.
I doubt that you know,
Even as we both know you won a jackpot,
In the doting-spouse lottery,
That my greatest hope for the future, in that instant,
Involved escaping it.
Or giving it out, like a big set of Tupperware at Christmas,
So many gleaming days, big and small, it’s hard to know
How to fill them, if you don’t have to
Feed an army,
Or if your special needs aren’t
To scrub fruit.
You end up with more implements,
Than you can ever use.
I have to admit that while you’re talking,
Hundreds of miles away(really typing, so it’s not *as*
Rude as it sounds, though I try to listen more, just…in case)
About compromise, and I’m trying to pretend
It doesn’t sound like some shit I’ve never seen before,
Like “vertical jump shot” or “compassionate conservative”
I’m wondering if I could
Gift-wrap a couple of decades,
Or if a simple bow is sufficient
While halfway hoping,
We’ll laugh at a couples’ night
About what a funny bastard
Life still is
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