Are you filled with alarm
and even slight disgust
that my breath smells bad
from time to time –
perhaps because I am dehydrated,
or have putrid food
stuck in the crevices
between my rotting teeth –
but probably both?

Have you grown tired
of encountering my socks
strewn about the floor
with no regard for future company,
or past requests
that I place them in the hamper
instead of kicking them off my feet
wherever I get comfortable?

Does it annoy you
more than anything I’ve ever done
that I floss
with a small white plastic pick
as we recline on our leather day bed
and watch a mini series
depicting the trials and tribulations of one
Orenthal James Simpson,
however insightful my point may be
about how they miscast Cuba Gooding Jr,
a man too small in stature
to play the Juice?

My cousin has a theory
that every four years
couples should call it quits
and start over again
with someone new.
By then all his best material
is stale;
that which made him
charming at the start
make him predictable
and dull in the end.
The quirks and idiosyncrasies
that once brought delight,
now induce dread.
More of it, in fact,
with each passing minute, hour,
day and month.
He is at his best,
he reasons,
pushed by the demands and insecurities
of a new lover;
not only more pleasing to his partner,
but also to himself.

It’s funny because –
when your breath stinks,
and your clothes are piled on the bed,
and you’re ignoring my thoughts
about the heavy handed editing technique
used throughout the opening of that new show
with the all star cast
on HBO
because you’re more interested in eating raw cookie dough
than listening to anything I have to say,
I still can’t help but think
how very much I love you,
and how lucky I am
to have you in my life
despite all the mistakes
made in a relationship
spanning decades –
I’m pretty sure
that’s my best self,
my favorite me,
better than the man you met
and fell in love with
all those many mistakes ago.

By | 2017-05-17T23:20:06+00:00 03/03/17|

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