Firstly,
let’s talk about fire. You light too many
candles. You’re in danger of letting
the fireplace overstay its welcome
and take over
most of
what’s already a really small living room.

The telephone
may as well be connected
to a bunch of little bridges
that let you down at the halfway point.

And our front door
may as well be a couple dozen
modest-sized oceans to the nearest street corner.

I still think all those lightning bugs outside
are being sent by people trying to find us
through some strange, new means
that I don’t in any way understand.

I don’t think every single lost soul
and every single lost cause in town
needs a candle to get God’s attention.

He’s listening.
I asked Him.
He’s listening.
Honest.

I also don’t think
you’re the last sincere
unlicensed therapist in town.

Especially to people who haven’t
been heard from in over a hundred years.

You read too many newspapers.
You know too many songs from your childhood.
You wear too many sweaters to bed.
You’ve ruined most of your dresses in the shower.

You have two extra pairs of scissors
in case the first set needs a rest.

Most of the time
you don’t even look for an ashtray.

You’re always reminding me
that we were still arguing about a name.
Right up until that morning.

You’ve been painfully selective
about almost everything else.

I’m not saying I’m angry.

Don’t expect to see me break down
in the kitchen and suddenly try to dig out
the heart of the matter through the overworked stovetop.

I’m just saying it wears me down a little.

If you can live with that,
then I can continue to live with anything.

01/30/2010

Posted on 01/30/2010
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