Today is our ten year anniversary, so today is hers.
THE WIFE
it’s great, she
doesn’t ask me to help
clean more than pick up after
myself, or ask that my beard
be trimmed all that often.
she buys beer when I want it
and makes the coffee when it is
empty.
cooks, washes the
dishes, and makes sure that the
boy gets bathed often enough
and that he eats enough.
intelligent and reads a lot
so is easy to talk to and
we make love or laugh often
and sometimes there are tears
or both together.
I almost always have clean clothes
and she makes sure that
I buy new ones fairly often so
I don’t look like a writer, or
a vagrant or a jazz musician;
which I am to varying degrees,
all three.
but none so successfully that
I can make the living at it.
I
ask her why she does these things
with only the occasional complaint
(usually when she thinks I am
critical of her), and she says
that she loves me.
I believe her tho she never
believes that I am not critical
of her.
I am critical of
everyone else, even the self,
she is all that is close enough to perfect
that I don’t mind the headaches.
– Hoc Scripsi
the platitudes of willful resemblance 