For Michiel

In The Grass



I know,

you think it's coincidence when I turn the TV on for background noise while we make supper and it's a Cards game.
And they're bombing.
But actually, I watched it earlier and recorded it for you.
They lose but you smirk and gloat and I like seeing that kind of silly happiness on you sometimes.
Even if it makes me roll my eyes and eat my pride. Twice.

And I know, I know,
You think it's a coincidence when your favorite songs play back to back while we shower.
But actually, when you were setting the water and making sure my shampoo bottles were full enough for another exhausting round of tandem hair washing, I queued the songs that way.
I like the way the water collects in your beard and captures the light when you smile because of it.

And look, look,
When you tell me my pickle and peanut butter sandwiches look, smell, and sound gross, it makes me not want to eat it.
It is gross. Obviously, it's a vinegar cucumber in peanut butter on rye.
But I like it anyway.

Just like you yell too loudly when you:
Stub your toe on the

Christmas tree stand I haven't put away yet,
The projector that's still a work in progress and sitting in the dining room,

Or trip on a
Misplaced shoe,
Sharp dog bone,
Bundled macbook power cord,
Folded rug corner,

But I love you anyway. With me?

I really hate when you stop talking to me to text.
I really hate when you have to go to the gym.
I really hate when you have to go anywhere and I can't come, actually.
But I love it when you do have to go and I can't come. I love that a lot.

And look,
I hate it when you come home and smell like winter, like outside. Like the subway or cold sweat.
I really wish you would get a new saddle for your bike.
But then you take off your jacket and you smell like you.
And, you put your hands on me.
And I don't hate this.

"Hi, baby," you say
"Come here, baby"
"Touch me, baby"
"Did you miss me, baby?"

Yes. Yes. Yes.

And you put your hand on my hip.
And your hand on my throat.
Your fingers pressed to my chin,
And they smell like film.

I really don't hate this.

"I love you, baby," I say
"I cry without you, baby"
"Hold me tighter, baby"
"I wanna come, baby"

You love me.
You cup my cheek.
You hold me closer.

"Look at me, Baby," you say

I look.

"Let me hear you, baby"

I open my mouth.

"Come for me, baby"

And I do, I do, I do.

And look, listen, one more time, let me say it: I love you.

I love you.
I love you.
I love you.