Yet Another Valentine’s Day For Yasmeen, 2007

Here we go again: they want flowers, Heart-shaped chocolates, rosy ornaments, Dinner with candles, a Holding of hands, another year pretending Our marriage is perfect. And when you married me, you must have Known I would never do These things that are done By other men. And now, some years later, you know I will not falsely praise you; I will not Speak to you with hallmark cards, or Place diamonds on your hand; I will Not promise that I will be true or sing Your praise in stupid rhymes. And we are too old to pretend: Our marriage is not perfect: sometimes You want to be held when all I want to hold Is books; You never like my cooking or cleaning; You hate my driving, especially when I tear Through red lights; I am impatient, selfish, proud And I don’t like it when you talk loud. And, after all, there is no need to pretend: No consumerism shall consume What I feel for you. All the words on all the cards in all the world Could not express your beauty. And my words of love will be Whispered to no woman In all of heaven or all of earth. Only you.