I Should Have Known Then
The night you walked into my world
you changed it forever.
I should have known then
when from your backpack
as a magician you revealed
two apples and two beeswax candles
and a good bottle of red wine.
My head went back
my eyes narrowed to try to see you better
and I wasn’t sure whether to be
delighted or suspicious or both.
Turns out both was appropriate.
As you do continue to amaze
as well as astonish and stir curiosity.
Some days I wonder how you could
be a dairy farm boy from West Virginia
and at the same time make me wonder
for the first few years if you work for the CIA.
You are just fascinating like that.
Knowing answers to unknowable things.
Whether that is your way through the Paris subway
or the kind of caviar on a little Sunday blini
or the brand of chandelier bobbles in a
Russian champagne bar in New York.
Did I say New York? What about the time,
the first time at the United nations when
the tech guy never showed and you were
able to broadcast films for 5 women with
5 different technologies on the fly.
Hum. Hmm. Ho. Hallelujah for someone
How you are able to be so multi-dimensional
and yet so country boy down home in
the same moment is part of your intrigue.
You taught me enough quantum physics
to be dangerous. I think we like about
one another, that we are rather
dangerous to existing establishments.
We fancy ourselves troublemakers.
You aren’t from around here are you?
Hang out in this solar system often?
What’ll you have?
“The Last Word” you say in the Peacock Alley
of the Waldorf Astoria while lounging on velvet chairs
listening to a Leonard Cohen song being played
on the grand piano.
A vintage cocktail to go with the Pal Zaleri
tuxedo you brought when you moved in.
You had a borrowed suitcase, a pillow, a tuxedo
and a book of Rumi.
Yes I should have known then.
Turns out that tuxedo came in handy
on one very special day.
That first night, that second night, one year
and 10 days apart. You said you knew.
Maybe I will never know what it is you knew
those two first nights, when on the 7th night
you asked me to marry you.
I.Just. Said. Yes.
Why? You might wonder after only meeting
a man two times would I say yes to a lifetime?
Because you patted your shoulder,
indicated that was where my head went
and said something like – “this is your home now”
Girls are crazy about that kind of
country song eros.
I call you Rainmaker.
Rainmaker and Husband.
Husband, today is your birthday and we are going
off an adventure but we start this day like
we do every morning for the past few years
waking up and saying
Good Morning I love you.
With a cup of coffee, music, sleepy smiles and poetry.
I will never find the words to say
What it has meant to me to have you in my life.
Whether that is learning how to smell the envelope of a glass
or explode in buttercream sandwich giggles or
listen to you sing the blues at a random open mic
or pet your hair for baby elephant hour
which only lasts a few minutes but lasts all day.
Oh – and – how you look at me.
You see me in ways I don’t see myself.
You have opened me to myself through pleasure
and possibility. And a good time.
I needed that. Needed the laughter and the loving.
Thank you for walking into my life
I should have known then.
And for that I give thanks to God.
For you, mysterious is an understatement.
This isn’t our first rodeo
but this sure is the funnest one,
and the one I want to spend the rest of my life
riding into with you.
I hope you will spend this day, this life,
With me, my love