Marriage. The presumption
that you can be bothered,
that you’ll laugh when I laugh,
that I tickle you...how insecurity
and self-bloating go hand in hand
with mediocrity,
manic waves of hither and yon,
a few words thrown at mirrors
for good measure. We had
our good days,” and then it’s
open your book,
hands to the table
at the Squat & Gobble,
yesterday’s
mad dash at another broken record.
And there he goes,
wearing his lazy suede jacket
in reverse. It was a nice sauce.
