Getting Married

Let’s get married, you said.

I sat up quickly and 

just in time,

stopped my mouth saying, 

After two days?

You’re going mad!

Why? Where’s the gain?

We’ve already said we’ll stay together,

You with me or me with you,

and care for each other,

and make love to each other.

We don’t need a piece of paper

saying Mr and Mrs.

Anyway, you don’t have a good record

when it comes to marriage.

Or so I’ve heard, I said.

I think I want an extra tie,

another binding, a public one.

So that your friends 

would ring you up, concerned,

and warn you not to go ahead.

And mine would try to find you

to do the same and worry

about my sanity.

But not for long.

We’ll do it quick, you said.

And then we can smile behind their backs

as they check our progress down the years,

amazed that we’re still together,

still like each other, still love.

And, after all, I have a much worse record 

of not being married.

So, let's get married, you said.


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