some kind of worthless victory

i ate three plums today,
each
an
hour
apart,
and this feels like
some kind of worthless victory,

not only because of their cold
sweet texture,
but because the act
reminded me
of that poem
by that guy
with the same first and last name.

you just mentioned
that the new candle you bought last week,
doesn’t have a hot throw.
“don’t you know about these things?”
you ask while giggling into the kitchen.
you’d be surprised by the things I don’t know,
but we both know that’s a lie. 

what is a marriage
if not an unraveling
of the things we don’t know.

chris brought the book into my life
a few days ago. he had sent me a message
about how whilst discussing the work in his classes
my former students had commented on how I looked
like the poet.  we periodically speak
in the lunch line about what we’re reading
or writing and this poets name came up.
two days later the book is in my life.

chris sometimes gives me gifts.
he once wrote me a hand written letter:
highlighting the things that made me and our friendship special.
i was moved and stupidly proud
that i know a guy who writes letters like that.
he might be embarrassed that I’ve shared this story
in this hastily written poem,
so thoughtless shared,
in all places,
a facebook post and a tweet.

i’m not sure what I’m supposed to be about.
but i know that
starting and ending a day with a poem
is a good way to appreciate

plums and wives and friends.