Monday, November 28, 2016

How dumb are you? Well let’s see.
Let’s start with how dumb I am,
and I can answer that simply

by pointing to my garden.
It’s fruitful. I’m not dumb,
nor, despite your fondness of me,

are you. You’re brilliant, sweet;
if the world’s a vegetable stew
you are its best little pea,

and I mean that sincerely.
I don’t love stew, Marjorie.
Maybe I’m good not with words,

but then again neither are you,
I’d wager, based on your verbal.
Oh, you don’t like bringing

that up? Haha, math whiz.
You auto-outperform a quadratic
equation scholar in your head

but don’t know where Bath is.
You know where the bath is,
and so do i. So do we. How cute

are we, padding from the ensuite
all damp and betowelled? Well
I’ll leave that to the crowd

to determine by its applause.
Meanwhile we’ll be in the loveseat
kissing and trading old saws.

• • •

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