Two consenting adults

will meet in public, share a drink and annex
talk with punctuated pointings of their specs
the conversation may be staid or complex
there may even be snarls, snags, barbs, bumps that vex
but between them lies ties and goals: no vortex.
Emotions range, some needing many kleenex.
No matter what the world throws them to perplex
they work at it and it’s good soon or in weeks.
How does marriage of individuals flex
so that they don’t fly off as separate ex?
As specified, they work! There’s no love codex
to multiplex the simplex to high apex.
No snake oil from some slick slimeball guy named Tex.
Nothing majestical or magicky from Rex.
No uniting you with rings by pontifex.
Love is work, believe it. Don’t trust a telex.


Miss Celia Leblanc’s whirlwind ride to the Humber

The JS Witness protection program was in the badlands cutting lumber
and Miss Celia Leblanc hated every bit especially in regions lumbar
but she couldn’t complain against bad luck. Really: up was her number.
One day, in the badlands woods, a wild turkey caused her truck to tumbler
and she slid crashing into a cliff frail and sandy but just as cumber
as any you could collide with. Time is long, out with only a sandwich of cucumber
and tree blubber to drink. The sun looked a delicate shade of wavy umber
when from out of the forest she heard a “Zonk”. Was she dreaming in slumber?
No. It was the hippogriff stridumphing along. Shocked he shouted “St. Columba!
Is this the Leblanc who clonked me just days ago? Zonk! Or do you outnumber
us all with identical twinning?” “No. That was me. So sorry to encumber
your life once again.” “Zonk. I be no lubber or grubber or Leblanc snubber!
Fate has rolled her dice and cast us in a crazy coed, unspecific clubber.”
Celia’s brow knotted but she was interrupted. “Nay. Don’t be a quiet disturber,
Tis kismet; it’s predestined. We must not tarry to marry, you cute landlubber!”
And they did and I witnessed and they honeymooned in the estuary at Humber
where the Ouse and Trent meet for there is a castle to go plonk in! It’s rubber.

Marital Bliss through Animal Training

I read an article/interview in the Globe today called Treat each other like animals (here’s a link to a similar article in the New York Times if you don’t get that paper). This is an interesting and refreshingly simple approach that has a lot of merit. This isn’t old style animal training with a whip and chair nor is it a rolled up newspaper. Basically you reward preferred behaviour and ignore the bad. This is assuming, of course, that the bad isn’t so terrible that it is violent: that would probably require more complicated therapy to deal with.
This is aimed more at the common spousal argument. I like this a lot. It’s just the way I’d want to be treated if I’m being a jerk. After all, anger is hot and fleeting and things get said that I’d prefer not to recall. It’s much better left ignored than heightened through (even a justified) reaction. Things have a way, as we’re all told, of working out. And they do if given time.