Juxtapose

When you hold my hand and we pray over our late-night supper of Ramen in a kitchen full of dishes I have been too lazy to wash.

When I watch you work on one of your many projects and I can see steam coming from your ears as you compute the angles and composition of your art.

When you wear the hat you were wearing when I first met you.

When you tickle me to tears and bruises from flailing my arms and legs.

When your arm is around me at church.

When you call in the middle of the day and give me a chance to hear your voice.

When I Ha-cha-cha and every time it makes you laugh and I know I could get whatever I wanted from you if I tried.

When I wake up from a light sleep and that thing happens where my heart is overwhelmed and breaking with love in a way I can't logically process or emotionally comprehend.

When my vision is white with anger and your voice is as level as it always is.

When you walk the broken stairs up to Donna's apartment full of catsmell and sadness and loneliness and you take her funny little gifts of food and you hug her with as much sincerity and love as you would a dear friend.

When my pride is squashed beneath your simple logic.

When we are late-night highway-speeding on the back roads of Chatham in the summer.

When you're drinking Mountain Dew in Grandma's worn white wicker chairs and talking about current feed prices.

When you come home from work after such a long day.