March 26, 2022

Concrete & Abstract




concrete and abstract—
she is credits, debits, balances forward

neatly written down in a ledger

kept in top right drawer of polished oak desk

alongside perfectly sharpened pencil—


I’m lines scribbled down with half-dead pen 

on back of crumpled envelope or used napkin 

stuffed inside the pocket of a jacket that doesn’t zip

receipts lost, misplaced, or forgotten at the point of purchase—


she’s two cups this, one-eight of a cup that, one quarter cup something else

recipe followed to the letter—

me? some of this, some of that, pour some of whatever that is in

her perfectly coiffed ducks are always in a row

my swallows flew off scattershot long ago, never to return

hers always come back to capistrano—-


look up opposites attract and you’ll see our picture 

I like to think of us as yin and yang

living together in perfect harmony

balancing each other out

despite her over my head impeccable vernacular—


despite that she never laughs at my jokes

I’ve never read one of the books she loves so much

I don’t think she’s ever read one of my poems

her religiously sleeping in bed by midnight

my up all night tapping on a keyboard . . . . .

—despite all these incongruities

we’ve been through a lot together 

we couldn’t be more one