Woman

*rough draft*

"I'm too old for you" soberly somberly
addressed my precarious precocious advances.

But my hairy temerity pushed in until you
cried Yes. How often you shouted "yes...."

We always had your nononononononononononos
appeasing my yeses. So subtle and charming was I

that you gave me your eyes for spring and summer.
And your dark plump glossed lips just as long.

"You are delightfully weird," led days later
to a kiss to your neck to distract us from that poet,

And we made our laughter leap confidently and often from
lover's throats that mustered only crumbs of love.

I always marveled at the clues of curves under your thinnest
dresses draped over my laternight anticipations.

Breaking beds into carnival funhouses, holding you
in nimble lighting though we sweat until the orange juice came.

Your smallest goodbye was our biggest mistake, and that
biggest crowd was our smallest hello.

We said so many thankyous and missyous and youturnmeons and
actuallys and yeses and nos and I was content with the concision.