The Shutterfly edition
She was the art of language,
he, the science.
She knew how to get them to feel
& discuss what they felt,
even as he knew how to move them,
to manipulate them,
The first did it to further her own cause—
that of her survival—
the latter did it to further a cause
he saw as greater than himself
but which he himself was a part of.
She was foreplay,
which made for a powerful coupling,
for she didn’t waste time talking,
& he didn’t waste time doing.
No one could hear
the introverted writer’s mispronunciations,
nor could they see
the extroverted public speaker’s typos,
but when they had to do
a PowerPoint presentation together,
they had to strengthen their weaknesses
by learning from what the other did.
Martin was into building blocks,
He liked to build homes,
she liked to decorate them.
When a bulldozer named Suzie—
a wannabe homewrecker—
she was bested by these newlyweds,
for when they’d gotten married,
they had thrown away the receipt.
When she looked across the table—
over candlelight & roses
& dinner for 2—
she wasn’t reminded of why she’d said yes
why she’d continued to say it.
He was a comedy of manners,
she, a comedy of errors.
When they fell in love,
going so far as to do
that nauseating heart thing
with their hands at sunset
(becoming an Instagram cliche),
she realized she’d taught him how to lighten up,
to not be afraid of putting off others
for not being a put-on,
even as he’d taught her how to apply a little polish—
not to cover up who she was,
but to reveal the wonderful woman she was
underneath the social awkwardness
that she had learned,
out of necessity,