When my girlfriend invited me on a long weekend in the mountains
to talk & renew our traditions that began in Sophomore Year
I imagined a few lazy afternoons filled with ice cream raids &
nail polish & weepy Julia Roberts vehicles (well, for gals like us)
& when I arrived I was handed a glass of cabernet (no problem)
I was given tastes of the delicious courses she’d been fixing—
little forkfuls of greens w/ shaved pecorino—little spoonfuls of
quinoa pilaf—little forkfuls of sweet potato gnocchi (no problem)—
but when dinner had ended she set out a bowl of frozen berries
on the coffee table & began to shake out of her pocketbook
a long, pliable object, well, it was then that I dashed for my car
of course we could’ve renewed our Sophomore Year traditions
at any fashion mall (duh!) but the real worry was my intuition—
w/o it nothing is bright & nothing is safe & nothing is clean!
[NaPoWriMo Sonnet #10. Too, see: Dan Gutstein Speaks to the Cat.]
