A Little Valentine's Mush For You

A poem I wrote for The Missus last year, on the occasion of our tenth Valentine's Day...

Ten Valentine’s

I remember buying the flowers but
Beyond that I didn’t have much of a plan

I remember heading up to 70th and Amsterdam
(or maybe it was Columbus)
And having something in mind about
Officially acknowledging the beginning of us
but
I was running purely on impulse and was therefore in
Uncharted waters

For starters, I was falling in love.

I was falling

in
love.

I was falling in fucking love
and that was about as far from the master plan
as a man who didn’t have a master plan can get.
I mean, we weren’t even saying “boyfriend/girlfriend” yet
And here I was on the 1 and 9
with a big bouquet and a card I hadn’t even signed
Grinning like a dope and completely clueless as to what the hell I thought I was doing.
But knowing nonetheless that I simply wanted to be with this girl on this night.

That despite how much I’d pooh-pooh’d the holiday,
And tried to minimize her expectations,
some smarter part of me took over and shoved me out of my own way long enough
to actually enjoy whatever it was that was starting to happen.

I was falling

in love.

And as far as my heart was concerned
it was absolutely right.
It was just the rest of me that was putting up a fight

though,
in that moment,

standing across the street from the wig shop where she worked,

losing

definitively and for good.

That was ten Valentine’s ago.

Ten.

And though we’ve grown exponentially since then,
something was revealed to us that evening.

Sitting at that bar on the Upper East Side,
Her, with her vodka tonics and me with
whatever I was drinking at the time,
Thoroughly engaged in conversation, but silently digesting
a bigger revelation about
-where- - we might- - be headed.

Having visions maybe, even then,

Of London.

Of Paris.

Of Florence.

Of Ghana.

Of Sardinia.
Saugerties.
Sandwich.
Eastham.
P-Town.
Orleans.

A silver station wagon and a
tiny house in Queens
filled with overweight cats and a
three-legged dog that leans
a little when she walks.

Of car trouble, ruined dinners, crazy landladies, incorrect delivery orders, cat litter, cat food, cat hair, hair in the sink, hair in the shower drain, haircuts – both bad ones and good ones, the 6 train, the N train, “That’s a Wrap”, “Bistro 33”, birthdays, break-ins, new curtains, new couches, new floors, the old bed, the new old bed, a new new bed, Omaha, Denver, Cadillac Mountain, the Stella Maris, the Chances, the Hans Cottage Botel, Elkmont, Mather, Skaket, Marconi, First Encounter, Ten Bay, Three Maples, Bright Angel, Phantom Ranch, Hermit’s Rest, Cade’s Cove, Andrew’s Bald, Windsor House, my mom’s house, Galena, Dylan, Tabor, Rondout, Conch’d Out, LaGuardia, JFK, Le Marais, the TGV, pain au chocolat and café au lait, Virgin Atlantic, Jet Blue, Amtrak, Greyhound...

Of travel.
Of family.
Of God.
Of home.

Of a Sunday evening wedding
And everything that might come after.
Of dealing with getting gray
with humility and laughter.

And tonight

Sitting at this bar in the West Village,
You, with your Sauvignon Blanc and me with my Carmenere,
Thoroughly engaged in conversation
but silently digesting a bigger revelation about

where

we might

be headed.

Ten Valentine’s from now.


-IMBA
Valentine’s Day, 2007

.

Happy 11th Valentine's Day together, baby.