Saturday, March 03, 2007

Old Gloves

Well it's not shiny new car keys, but it does mean no car payments for at least a while longer. They fixed the van and the bronco, but it certainly wasn't cheap. On the van it was the catalytic converter. On the Bronco, it was the battery and something related to the starter. We're going to be paying for the repair for a few weeks, which doesn't make me happy, but this should be the last major problem for a while.

I would settle for a boring life if I could figure out how to get one.

Gary's Valentine's Day poem is below. This seems like a good time to to post it. It's not pffa-worthy, but I'm pleased with the fact that he likes it so much. I can't get it make the line-breaks properly and I'm too tired to figure out what to do, so the breaks are a bit of a mess.

Old Gloves

We are the old gloves in each other's pockets these days,
fibers shortened, lengthened, stretched to fit the other's hand,
familiar to each other's skin.
Second to me is folding into you at night, that space behind your knee,
the small of your back, my face on your neck,.
First is reaching.

I know you like your morning coffee thick,
pale with cream—one sugar.
You put my glasses on my desk without comment
so I can find them in the always last minute dash for work.
And love making is often like winding a clock.
Thank god.

We are not guesswork.
We are not, "I wonder if . . ."
We are not worried about magic ingredients or play-acting or pretending.
We are fitting.
We are reaching. And we know
the other will be there at night
and in the morning and the next day after.

We are about reaching for something that fits,
when nothing else does,
and finding the other waiting and ready to love us.


Scotty said...

Who says men can't be romantic, eh? There's some good stuff in that poem; well done, Gary.

And I'm glad to hear that your cars are fixed; paying off the repairs for a while is a pain in the butt, for sure, but at least they gave you that option. At some places here, it's a case of, no money, no car back until you can pay.

Mary O. Paddock said...

Thank you Scotty, but I wrote it. :) By calling it Gary's poem, I meant that I'd written it for him. He's asked me not to post the poem he wrote for me (so yes he is very romantic).

Yes, I agree. It is one of the advantages to living in a small town where most people know us. Once or twice, we've gone off and left the checkbook at home and had the teller tell us--just bring your check by in the morning.