30 years together and you know
I loathe it when the bathroom light snaps
apart my dream about the cabana boy.
It's brazil nuts they never put enough of
in the mix, so you bother yourself for bulk,
for me. The yellow roses I carried down the aisle
were my favorite till I switched my druthers
to peach; the anniversary bouquet
didn't require the card to tell me

you remembered. We've relaxed into cohabitation
that lends us grace with interest, that kens
each slouch or come hither tilt of my shoulder,
your frown. I know decisions about paint chips
or curtains can wait for halftime, and never
make us late for anything anytime anywhere.
You've watched enough oaters to know
too many gunslingers got it in the back
to ever partner up for pinochle. We embrace

this mating well, so why fret and fume away
energy that is better spent fanning a hotter spark?

April 2007