POETRY
You Are Still You
A Poem about me and her
You are still you, though years have peeled away,
‘Neath weathered epidermis, youthfulness remains:
Your utterly irresistible voice, your deeply caring face,
Your kind eyes glistening in a fiery glow —
You still radiate.
Remember walking hand in hand, waves crashing at our feet?
Clear possibilities splashing over surf and sand.
I had some ideas; your plans
included someone like me.
Now we’ve been together about as long as we were apart.
I wandered the world without you for so long,
then I heard your lovely voice over the phone.
It was at the crisis line where we both volunteered:
that’s where everything changed.
Troubled callers, searches for relief;
We can make a better world, and we must believe.
Movie night, don’t care what’s playing,
“You think you like him?”
“I think I do, we shall see.”
Dirty Gibsons in martini glasses,
Phantom at the Orleans Saenger,
Swapping stories by campfire,
“Time enough for counting when the dealin’s done.”
A special spot among the trees,
I already know you’re the one for me,
Percolating coffee upon an old Coleman,
“You know I’ll never break up with you.”
A thief who steals only the shoes,
Through days preventing child abuse,
For Baton Rouge, writing news,
Evening sitcoms, staying in,
“I love you infinity, plus one.”
Waiting for just the right time,
For an emphatic sunset by the pond.
We don’t ever have to go it alone.
Pop the cork; we have news,
A ring that sparkles, you’re my only one,
We’re “available” no more.
Come on, everybody, it’s finally our turn:
Down the aisle, cathedral marriage,
Two halves coming together?
Not you and me, that’s codependency;
Call it a partnership in pursuit of our dreams.
Bar Harbor, horse drawn carriage,
Jordan Pond, popover breakfast,
hiking, sailing, pumpkin gazing,
“Unlock the door; you think you’re funny.”
Grand Hall, grand piano,
Sipping nightcaps, being together.
“We debated whether to tell you, but Parrain is gone.”
No, it can’t be true, but we know it is,
From honeymoon to funeral and back into Real Life.
You don’t ever have to go it alone.
Our quaint cottage, just minutes from work,
Fresh grown oranges, birds that chirp;
You said this old mantle would bring the front room some character.
Don’t burn the space heater overnight,
Settling into jobs, routines,
Working for evenings,
weekends sleeping in,
Can’t keep my hands off you —
Let’s do it again.
Passion in the couch, passion in bed,
passion out back under cover of the night,
This you and I thing is really quite nice.
Marriage is everything we had hoped it would be,
but why do the in-laws keep showing up so early,
and where’s the closet space?
It’s time to leave our Garden of Cyril rental.
Find a starter house, American bungalow,
The neighborhood’s great, our friends live nearby,
We build a picket fence together,
with a yard for the dogs,
Sit on the front porch with French press coffee, morning getting late,
Farmers market, fresh-grown, yard-raised.
Walks at dusk, peeking in houses after dark,
Three years of just us,
Is it time to bring someone else into the picture?
You mean? Yes!
Can we do this? It seems
Overwhelming.
We can do this — together.
Alaska trip, can we go? Yes, until seven months;
you’re not yet starting to show, and
you tell me you already love him;
I didn’t quite yet know what you meant,
but soon it would all make sense.
Now you’re showing and you’re glowing
in the photo Marie took.
As we count down the final weeks, Ovid Street is full of dogs,
It’s late July and it must be Fahrenheit 60 degrees — inside the house.
Something’s happening, was that a contraction?
Let’s go for a walk,
Now you’re leaking, better call it in.
Maternity ward, all checked in,
nurse can’t get the I.V. in:
welcome to the labor that never ends;
Dr. Lafranca can’t turn him, his head is so big,
It’s time for a Caesarian.
Henry beautiful brown-eyed boy,
spitting image of his mother,
clinging to us like a big pale tree frog,
La Leche League ladies,
my kid won’t latch, don’t guilt me.
What an incredible feeling, to bring new life into the world.
Can you believe he’s ours?
We made him, you and I made him,
the most amazing boy I’ve ever seen,
though I may be biased.
Hold my hand, don’t veer from our plan,
He must cry it out or we’ll never sleep again.
Baby bottles, runny nose, diapers, wipes, precious clothes,
Minivan, carrier seat, binky, blankie, another play date.
Working, earning, rearing, making,
Finding beauty, love and meaning,
Dogs come sniffing, wagging, licking,
Dead end city, flatline state,
Let’s see what lies beyond these city walls.
I’d follow you to the edge of the earth;
Traveling far from there to here,
The people who couldn’t come with us we had to leave behind.
Starting anew now,
Vinings, Georgia, apartment will do for now,
New town, new job, new climate, friends few.
There’s four seasons here, and it snows too.
Walking to the pond, driving to the zoo,
Mani is now Jack, Henry is now two.
Unitarian-Universalists, a bit like herding cats,
March of Dimes, saving babies,
Your boss is a trip.
For justice to prevail, good must perpetuate,
Happy feelings, romantic flames,
You are my oxygen,
The time has come, we know we’re ready for pregnancy again.
I hope it’s a girl, I can’t wait!
Cobb County here we come,
We found a house just in time,
Big brother’s got a big-boy bed,
She’ll be another big one,
or so the doctor says.
A planned C-section, it will be a piece of cake;
It’s always more labor-intensive than one would think.
Is that our baby? Look at the red hair,
Yes it is, and she adores her mother like nothing I’ve ever seen,
A scooter who need not crawl,
You’ll never imagine what life has in store.
Three months of leave and it’s time to leave,
Going back to work already, it’s tough,
Ah, but when you get home,
there’s so much love under our roof,
Cries, smiles, giggles, hugs and kisses, Little fingers, little toes, baby soft skin,
Time to change another diaper again,
“I’d like to stay home with our babies, if it could be,”
“Of course you can, I’m joining the corporate travel industry.”
Domestic life, who would have thought they’d see
your important career making way for housewifery?
Repetitive. Mundane. Profound.
Shopping, cooking cleaning, laundry,
reading, playing, teaching, nursing,
Attentive to their every need.
We’re going on a mission,
There’s an animal in trouble,
Little Einsteins, Wonder Pets,
Dora the Explorer we’d like to forget,
Bowling, skating, Learning Express,
On the road to Folsom,
On the road to Baton Rouge,
On the road to Seaside.
Soccer, baseball, BAPA dance,
Softball, swim meets, Girl Scouts,
“Mom was just diagnosed with stage 4 ovarian cancer.”
We celebrate the seasons,
Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall
Cyril Citrus, Farm persimmons,
King Cake for Mardi Gras,
Easter eggs, lamb, dirty rice,
End of school, head for the pool,
strawberries, watermelon,
flank steak on the grill,
A brisket for Fourth of July,
Birthday dinners, birthday cake,
Summer ends and school begins,
Labor Day and the best month of the year.
Apples, pumpkins, oyster stuffing,
Save the carcass for a gumbo.
Time to make some fig cookies,
Prime rib, mashed potatoes, green beans,
Still some room for Granny’s fudge,
Measuring out the year by what goes in our mouths.
Before we know it, the memories have piled up,
So many moments we’ve now lived,
Our children finished grade school,
Orthodontics came and went,
Adolescence was survived.
Orchestra gave way to lacrosse,
Chorus gave way to band,
“Mary Ann had a stroke.” No, it’s a glioblastoma.
We buried my mother,
We buried my dad,
and celebrated 20 years married with a voyage to foreign lands.
One day we’ll have to revisit,
But for now, still new things to see.
The oldest one is finishing college,
the younger one is on his way,
Leaving it again just you and me,
The most fortunate people alive.
You are still you, just like you always are,
The one I love to gaze upon,
The one I must tell first,
My best friend who makes magic of ordinary,
There will never be another,
Turning a kitchen into Eden with a kiss.
