these are things
i say to you
or try to
on a regular basis
i hear they are important
and i was raised to
pay attention
to everything as if
it were important
lest i get a smack
about the head

frustration
is easy to
come by
like pennies on
a dresser
ever present and
unsurprising

less common

is cool air coming
in the windows
as we glide along
the small town road
listening to chet
or coleman
or duke
or ella
the point is
the radio sings
the evening is before us
and my heart is full
and my head is working

working out all the wonderful
things you are and ways
you affect me
i consider myself a dab hand
at turning a phrase
but
the volkswagen keeps
us close and
the closeness is driving
me crazy
i cannot think in a line
down the straight street
i am jumping and
swerving to the music
of the radio and our
love

i want to pour it
out of me
cover you in my
happiness
with clever phrases
playfully joined
hinting at things
hidden to most

all i manage is to say
is
“romantic proclamations of affirmation!”
in a voice wholly too loud
and oddly enthusiastic
you respond by saying
“don’t yell at me”
but
you don’t smack me
about the head