I'm not afraid to use you
The wall clock reiterates
each second of our love life
It's the metronome timing our home
I think it started long ago
Calamity in napkin folds
I hate the way you clutch the phone:
like you're escaping
It feels like counting coins,
like romance forged, but it's on paper
You come home, I come home
to buried desks a little later
We horde around a table, wordless,
put our heads together
Sometimes our fingers touch
Don't need two to turn a page
Sure beats the cordoned lines,
zig-zagging in crowded lobbies
We could be on our own in single homes
with single hobbies
At least we're safe and legal
(paintings of the northeast seagulls
I don't care because I guess
you grew up on the beach)
We're joined with palm pumped staples
It feels like sin, but it's on paper
We've gone eleven months
Visa-vis
keeps our breath warm,
and every now and then they come to check
if we can dress and look impressed
with one another in our home
of coastal decor
This is your side
Let's go to sleep
Whisper all you want,
but that is what you'll keep
Put the ring on
It's good as gold,
and please don't move my things around
We're only getting old
This is your hand,
and this is mine
Intertwined for public view
until we need to sign
I may not know you,
But I've seen you write your name
I will not read between your lines
if you don't do the same
Another nervous dinner on a February night
There's got to be a way to make it out
Clock tick rhetoric
where the strangers share a check
I dream in sound and signatures
There's got to be a way to make it out