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
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