I wish I could measure
Our time spent together by
The tattoos on our skin
This one in Mexico…
This one in Chicago…
This one in Milwaukee…

And then we could be
Like that old couple I met in Idaho
That had been together for years
But never married
No wedding bands on their fingers
Just lovely, wrinkly bodies,
covered head to toe
In stick-and-poke tattoos

“On my back, you see”
The old woman said proudly
Raising her shirt to reveal
Black and blue jagged lines
Some straight, some curving, some fading
Swooping shapes across her backside.
And her flesh,
Starting to sag in her old age
Was a tattooed tapestry draped
Across her hunching and bowing shoulders.

“Eddie” she said, with eyes bright
“He did these himself”
“Just for me”
“Ain’t they fine?”
“You need someone else to do these, ya know?”
“Cuz ya sure can’t reach ya own back!”

Perhaps love is, simply enough
Never feeling too old
To put tattoos on your back
At the same time
Us, remembering, laughing:
This one was from Mexico…
This one was from Chicago…
This one was from Milwaukee…