Monday, April 12, 2010

True Love



It is true love because
I put on eyeliner and a concerto and make pungent
observations about the great
issues of the day
Even when there's no one here but him,
And because
I do not resent watching the Green Bay Packer
Even though I am philosophically opposed to football,
And because
When he is late for dinner I know he must be either
having an affair or
lying dead in the middle of the street,
I always hope he's dead.
It's true love because
If he said quit drinking martinis but I kept drinking them
and the next morning I couldn't get out of bed,
He wouldn't tell me he told me,
And because
He is willing to wear unironed undershorts
Out of respect for the fact that I am philosophically
opposed to ironing,
And because
If his mother was drowning and I was drowning and he
had to choose one of
us to save,
He says he'd save me.
When he went to San Francisco on business while I
had to stay home with the painters and the
exterminator and the baby who was getting the chicken pox,
He understood why I hated him,
And because
When I said that playing the stock market was
juvenile and irresponsible and then the stock I
wouldn't let him buy went up twenty-six points,
I understood why he hated me,
And because
Despite cigarette cough, tooth decay, acid
indigestion, dandruff, and other features of
married life that tend to dampen the fires of passion
We still feel something
We can call
True love.

-Judith Viorst

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