We have a night in the house to ourselves! The Ds are spending the night at their Grandparents’ new pad, and I’m going to rock this poem out and go play a board game with HP. I know just yesterday I wrote about wanting to spend more time on the last week’s poems, but we are never alone in the house. Ever. This is a few times a year experience, so I think that it is okay to get to typing and then gather some poemy pieces for tomorrow. Always thinking ahead.
Actually, my desire to make these last few poems extra awesome and my desire to go kick it in my house with my guy are a constant battle, and that brings me to tonight’s poem. We are different in a lot of ways, HP and I, but we work, some how. I’m going to think on that for a poem, and then get offline.
The Messy Contradictions
When you suggest moving a desk in my office, so we can work together, I reply that you are a den man, and I am a studio girl. You with your maps and books and instruments of navigation, and me with my altar, clean light, and imprints of water and giant black-purple poppies we work, but not in the same room, not for this. For I am the introvert who can talk for hours, and an anxious procrastinator. I crave distraction, and seek it out. I, the messy germaphobe, which why the dirty jobs are left to you: the pooper-scooper, the rodent-removal, the spider carnage, and the dump-runs. My neuroses make the appointments, to cover our teeth and general health, and purchase the researched foods. You are the ambitious dreamer, who also is no stranger to midnight conversations. You are excellent at talking it down, I am guilty of bring up all the danger. We are messy, but not unclean, clean but not neat. We are the masters of unwritten daydreams, and the ventricles of one rhythmic organ, you the left and me the right, or vice versa. Whichever. We could be the hemispheres in love, synapses shooting back and forth, working, always, on the same one life.
Never know when the love poems will come. It’s interesting. It’s true, though, HP and I are very similar, and very different. Somehow, though, it works. Happy Day After Christmas! I hope you all still have your decorations up, at least for a little bit.