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Marriage poem

This is not the love hours.
Jackie Gleason is not
crooning at the foot of the bed.
Happy event did not, as the
fortune cookie promised,
take place shortly in our home.
But we did linger at the café
where a group of people behind us
cheered in other languages
as we raised our own glasses.
Ten years, we smiled and
congratulated ourselves,
waiting for a pizza.
We’re not fat and we’re not angry.
Well, I am a little fat, you said.
And I, starting to laugh
at my own good fortune
to be here across this table
from you, to have been handed
this great set up,
assured you, That’s okay
I’m a little angry.
Posted 01/16/13
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