.
No I didn't get married. Yes I know the title's worded ambiguously. This poem's actual title is "I Glove You" from an in-joke between my sister Carolyn and her partner Chris who, yes, did get married back in May.
Since I just got my hands on some of the photos from the wedding I thought it might be nice (yes, nice. Randall can be nice y'know... fuck you), to put up the poem I read at their reception.
I wore a kilt, and wore it well, if I do say so myself. Anyway, here's what-else I said on the day:
you don’t need anyone to tell you about love
there’s no trick to it
though with a wedding’s onset you might think
that having a poet in the family
is suddenly useful
like when moving house then remembering
that mate of yours ...who has a van
but as it stands
there’s really not much more I can tell you
about love
still some may say there’s a need for fancy words
you’ve heard poets dress up love
with pretty flowers puffy clouds running rivers
waxing about glass half fool moons
and ...stuff
but love?
look folks I’m just a visitor here myself
one who comes in forgetting to wipe his feetmuddy on the nice rug lugging his baggage
mumbling love? bah-humbug
so you don’t need me to tell you about love
not if you’ve ever once been there
stealing a shy look across a crowded room
scribbled someone’s initials
into the margins of your notebook
ever daydreamed up excuses to talk to them
then shy st-st-tuttered
felt your heart flutter
if you’ve eaten a can of soup for one
more than once
if you ever missed someone
missed them like they were the last train
and it’s a long work home, alone
if you’ve ever wanted
a 'you' to change to an 'us'
found someone that you want to stick to
like an alibi
if you’ve wanted to hold onto them
like they’re a last fistful of coins
needed for the ticket
then you got it right
there’s nothing I can say in change...
if you’ve ever argued
to the far side of a closed door
yelled down your phone
drove angry and slept in your car
you’ve had enough break-make-shake ups
to be able to face up to this...
Chris
if you insist on marrying
this sister of mine
you’re gonna need to find
a bulletproof patience
a set of ears hard enough
to grind down diamonds
occasionally like ET
you’ll need to phone home
because women can seem sometimes
like they come from a different planet
if you’re going to marry Chris...
go easy on him, he’s a guy
it takes us a little while
to figure stuff out
ok sometimes it’s even slower that that
more like watching slow-motion replays
of paint drying
but we’re trying to get there
meet him half way
there are nights
you will want to tear the house in half
from each other but there’s room for that
this is a riff on happily ever after
you’ll have some goods days
others will be harder
and at those times if you need a marker
just look back to your mother and father
because they made it
you will to
you have someone to grow old with
someone to go with
grow bold with
all I know about is love is
how little I know
to keep it simple
for love to work no fancy words~
merely a smile
in good working condition
y'just need to have a pulse
pumping a heart big enough
that it has space for a table for two
with no reservation
oh you can still quibble
over split bills
share the thrills of hearing
your future-children shrill
over spilt milk
Chris and Carolyn
youz aren’t children anymore
now you know the score~
"be excellent to each other"
it’s everything already known
you didn’t need me
to write this poem,
you got a whole room full of people
who love and we love
that you guys love each other
that you didn’t need anyone to tell you
about love but..
that is
just as long as you two remember
what you already know about love
and you keep telling that
to one another
____________________________________________
Yes, not my usual thing. At least there's one poem now I can show to the girls at work without looking like a complete psychopath, misogynist or manic-depressive.
-Peace
.
