About Moving in
Together
You talking to me like this
is like some fool looking to own
that rusting backyard behemoth.
I say it's a heap, a clunker
a guzzling junker, backseat's
blemished with orange crush
lust and pink scabs of gum;
valves are worn, gasket's blown
gets ten feet to a gallon
leaks galore, that rattling
in the trunk could be bones.
You don't want a dinosaur,
not this '49 Buick Ennui;
sweetheart, we both know
you can do better than me