Pretty

On the wire I tell her things like beautiful

And pretty

And that the cat on my chest has stripes and whiskers

We laugh

And remember

After days of doubt, love, overlove, and memory

We talk of bicycle crashes

Cheap cars

Kisses

A shy child

And one that sails on a bed of balloons

And I tell her that those things are beautiful

And that they are pretty

Because I don’t have any other words

On the wire

That’s what I’ve found

And we’ll plan a mock wedding

A fancy across state lines

A day full of blue and purple

We’ll make sure this one is full of passion

And not the ghosts of where we’ve been:

An old girlfriend full of predictable lines

A man as colorful as white paint

Cold stones and buried bones

We reinvent and find our way back home

Strange are these days, we say

So strange are these days— 

On the wire I’ve found who I am

(Thank you)

And who she is

A jester

A scientist full of measure and warm evidence

And that’s beautiful

And, yes, very pretty