is different on a Saturday night.  Changing thing it is
on take out the garbage night.
Let us paint it in passion for a minute,
the blood engorging every nerve in both bodies
firing like they never did before, all the cries the passion
when that is the simplest part.
Get a few weeks on that flower may wilt,
I pray it does not, yet from experience,
I see love as when a diaper needs changed
or you lose your job or the bills have to be paid and
the pantry is empty.
And the couch smells like that stray dog you feed.
The kitty litter needs changed.
The babies need a bath and neither of you have slept for
twenty-four hours.
The bathroom counter is filled
with a mixture of hair, and the soap in the bath needs combing.
And you find time before passing out
to say
I love you more than yesterday