"Ours is a Parking Lot Love

a sometimes
Shouts Too Loud Love," I said.
 

"A Let's Talk It Out On The Porch Love." she says

"so the kids won't hear."

Slow walks," I say

Beach talks," you say

"holiday stress
and just please don't tell

those same old jokes again this year."

"I solemnly agree

and forget and

tell the same old jokes again

and your eyes gently roll

and I complain

"how come your sister knows

what I like in bed?"

and my eyes gently roll.

I complain that

"I can't find anything-

you keep moving my stuff."

"You mean the stuff you just throw in the closet"? she says

letting her eyes gently roll.

"I come up behind as you do the dishes," I say
"like now
kissing your neck
as you gently protest;
soapy hands and wetting places

we silently stand like this
gentle breathing

our unspoken celebration

of our Not Perfect Love

but one which is ours
realizing again

that our memories
while not perfect
are ours
binding us
shared;
that
that Future Tense we'd pursued so long

had setted in

in our
sudden appreciation
of Now
and warm
soapy
soothing hands."
I say.

You turn around
facing me
apron soapy

mouth open.