He told me that
he had seen me
on the cover of a dime store novel;
and that I looked a lot prettier in person.

On our first date
he brought my mother
a box of cigars
and my father
a dozen used golf balls.

The trunk of his car had no lid
and you could see the road
on the passenger side beneath your feet.

He had charm.

He stood under my bedroom window
and tied a note to a brick;
it broke the window
set off burglar alarms;
the police came
and he apologized.

We went to dinner and he smelled like chicken poop
from putting barb wire around the chicken coop.

I told him pigs would fly before I married him
and he showed up the next day
at the hardware store
where I worked
with a pig in the flatbed of a pick-up truck.

He called me out
strapping wings on the pig
yelling:
“Pig to fly on runway nine
Pig to fly on runway niner.”

He had charm.

Showed up one Saturday
wearing a gingham dress
over his jeans
saving he was saving up
to buy it for me.
“How does it look? ”
he said, “wanted to be sure.”

I was sure.

Married him.

Oh, he still has charm;
lots of it still rubs off on me.