You at age 30, I rely on my imagination
because I did not know you then
but there’s an old family photo
where you’re on a boat
at sea in summer
handsome enough, carefree
I hold the photo
imagine standing before you
smile to myself because I am certain
you would have been knocked out
by my girl-next-door looks
and an audacity
to which you were unaccustomed
these days I wait
for your next physical complaint
or medical test result
or worse, an emergency trip to the hospital –
this is not a complaint
another photo to which I return
is one where I’ve cut away the other faces
I want to see your face only
your mother’s eyes, crooked and mysterious
a smile that came from somewhere, maybe me
I feel the love burden rise up
too many days of senseless unkindnesses
fade as I look at this photo
my tears absolve us both
though our idiosyncrasies
have surely kept us on track all these years
when there seemed no other path
by which to stake our claim
in the couplehood hall of fame
a marriage so free-falling and blessedly free form
that it never quite hits the ground
the next snapshot
You Me
a dinner party
a bonfire
everyone thinks “what a great couple”
meant to be
we humans idolize the concept of true love
it impresses
is coveted
movie stars on parade
all the right moves, words, angles
but everyone has it so wrong
love is about the life of years which reside
in the hallowed in-between,
born of a charmed moment early on
then, a choice made
not too much more