Image by bobistraveling [CC BY 2.0], via Wikimedia Commons

I’ve been saving this fight for 
a less stressful day, keeping it
in my lower desk drawer, 
choosing the best time.  As you mist
the orchid blooming 
by the bay window, you hum 
some dreary song you like 
that I loathe.  Why not just admit 
that “Crimson And Clover” is the greatest 
record ever made?  You’re difficult.  
I’m not.  I’m a toad hopping out 
from behind a cinnamon fern beside      
a Wisconsin lake.  I pull the fight out 

of the drawer.  It’s about you constantly 
cramming stuff on the counter.  
Sometimes I scream. Maybe I’m a male 
grown-up Gidget.  I clean counters 
when I could be on a beach.  
What if I found an uncluttered Moondoggie?  

Happy Valentine’s Day, love.  
It’s off my chest.  The drawer only holds 
pens and old bank books now.

Be the sun.  
Kiss me 
like I’m a field full of milkweed.