It’s no wonder I was strumming
a guitar the moment I first saw you
— your voice lifting toward me like music
outside of that big, yellow house.
The moving truck nearly plowed into the eaves,
like our bodies in the early morning
when we glided clumsily across the ice
in New York — the city you love so much,
where we toured museums & bodega cats
greeted us like family.
We’ve learned that the good stuff takes time,
like eggshells & coffee grounds
becoming rich soil —that Earthly alchemy.
Or that the perfect match can look like
a grilled cheese. If you’re bread, then
I’m butter. We’re cooking with gas.
That night so long ago, we sparkled into the evening
like fireworks. You, a champagne bottle,
me in sequins. I kissed your temple for a photo,
& knew I would do it as long as you’d let me.
There we are on this third planet.
After 9 years, we know — like a diamond ring
missing in transit, even when something
goes wrong, it can still be right. Whether
on the cobblestones of Savannah, or at home
by the Christmas tree, my question
& your answer would always be the same.
We’ll never stop celebrating.
On your birthday, you stood in your boots
like a gorgeous statue, draped in all that blue,
as those who love you drank & danced
to celebrate your beauty, your brain,
& your unshakeable, dedicated hands
that like magic, turn scraps into gold.