Deus Ex Machina

April is National Poetry Month and I’m having a hard time thinking poetically, never mind finding the words to conjure emotion in an appealing form. Time to dig deep. Here goes nothing…

There’s no point in pretending.
We are the epitome,
When fools rush in…

Straight from the airport,
Nearly two breathes of London air,
You were the first person I spoke to.

And my first words,
“Hello, I stink. Can I use your shower?”
Best pick-up line ever.

I would have been prepared had I known it was you.
Would have considered that 18 hour layover in Helsinki,
And packed accordingly.

Ah, to be young and stupid,
And regrettably wearing granny panties.
I was trying to be a good girl,
And chastity belts come in many forms.

Good enough to wait 24 hours,
But not long after that…
I told you that I test drive before I buy,
You laughed and put on your seatbelt.

Two days after that,
You sat me down for ‘a talk’,
I thought I was in trouble.

Turns out you’d been giving your milk away for free,
And now its time to collect.
You gave me an ultimatum of sorts…

I bought the cow.

We sealed the deal with matching tattoos.
Did I say we were young, dumb and stupid?

Your mother pitched in 4 quid,
You only had 17 in your pocket.
We bought a ring from a street peddler.

Then we wed.
Less than a year from the day we met;
Love drunk fools.

Then we quit our jobs.
Traveled from England to Australia,
Without a plane.

Spent every minute together, for six months.
Passed the first test of our marriage.

Lived with my in-laws for six months.
Passed the second test of our marriage.

Lived with my family for six months.
Passed the third…with a little more effort.

Now in our own place,
First time without other people eating our food.
Just us two.

A little strange.
A little too quiet.
Silent domesticity;
The worst roommate.

Steady jobs and a mortgage.
Calendars and schedules,
Dishes in the sink.

The fourth test can be a killer.

Idle minds make for idle hands…
So that is why I kept this thing going.

Writing strengthens my conviction.
Reminds me of where I’ve been,
Who I’ve met,
Where I’m going,
And the ones I’m taking with me.

So when I look at that shitty tattoo,
I recall the forces brewing,
That led me to you.

Across the Atlantic,
One failed relationship,
Linked to another.

A French connection, if you will.

Our very recent ex-partners are cousins,
And to our reluctance they pushed for our introduction.

Little did they know the chain of events they started,
When they began conspiring behind our backs.

 

Little did we know,
The French weren’t a wasted effort.

They were crucial players,
To our Deus Ex Machina of sorts.