/ with your crooked heart . [south]

( K E V I N T A N N E R O P A L )

hey made a statue of us
and put it on a mountaintop
ow tourists come and stare at us
blow bubbles with their gum,
take photographs of fun, have fun

I love her.

That's why I want to spend my life with her. That's why I want to have a family with her. That's why I want to grow old with her.

I don't want her because: I want sex.

Because: I get bored.

Because: I want an accessory.

Not that I don't want sex, because when we make love, it's me and her and no one else. It's just us and the bed and I feel like I could do it forever (although my body doesn't agree). And it's not because of the sex that makes me thirst the aftermath of dates, it's the love and lust that builds up every moment I see her. And it takes all of my strength to not kiss her and make love to her in public and wait until afterwards. And then, when we get back to her place or my place, we finally let our passion for each other mingle through the blankets ending with fireworks only we can see.

It sounds stupid, I know. Because I'm not a poet, and words don't flow out of my words like magic, but I don't think it matters. Love is love. And I love Jacklyn and she loves me and that's all we need.

Today is one year together.

One year is all it took to make me: Want her more and more every day.

Make me: Want to be with her every second.

Make me: Go crazy about her.

Make me: Fall in love with her.

Make me: Give up my virginity to her.

And I don't regret any of it. It's as certain as the sun in the sky that she's not perfect and I sure as hell ain't perfect, either, but that's okay. We have our differences and disagreements, and sometimes things do get a little heated between us. But I'll also say that every moment with her is special, and I couldn't imagine life without her. Over the past 365 days, she's became my everything. My first and last thought of the day. The one I could talk to endlessly. The one I want to call my wife one day.

For now, I'm stuck living with my parents.

That's about to change because in my pocket is a pair of keys for our new apartment. Admittedly, it's like Goldilocks' porridge, not too bad but too good, either. It'll do, for now. And Jacklyn will be pleased to know it comes from sweat and determination, not fast fingers and fast feet. In my other pocket is a red necklace. Garnet. Cliche, I know. She'll laugh when she sees this, but not when she finds out how I got it.

I glance down nervously at my watch, the seconds ticking closer-and-closer to six o' clock. Our dinner-date is taking place at Lieu de Restauration. This fancy restaurant. I've had a table reserved for three months. Another advantage of mine is my new job. Paying me enough for a good dinner here, with appetizers, an entree, and dessert. A good portion of my money goes to my parents, with my mom still out of work and my dad working as much as a fifty-year-old-going-on-sixty can.

Knowing I'm here early, I take a seat on the waiting-bench while tapping my fingers against my thigh. Twenty more minutes until I see the love of my life. It seems like every second apart brings us closer together, the absence of her voice and smell a constant reminder of how much I need her.

And boy do I need her.

they'll name a city after us
and later say it's all our fault
then they'll give us a talking to
then they'll give us a talking to
cause they've got years of experience