2010
07.28
07.28
I was married once
two years after we lived together.
What a life we had
full of slums and irresponsibility
until she grew upset.
Said: Let’s get married.
Said: I don’t like living and using your name.
Said: Don’t you love me enough to marry me?
Didn’t dare say no after two years.
We made the trip to city hall,
was relatively painless,
then we were home again.
Said: This is no neighborhood to have babies,
so we moved.
Said: You should get a better job.
I went to work on Madison avenue.
Said: Forget your crazy ideas of being a poet.
I did and died.