My wife, we share the same shape,
taste the smell of what is to come.
Sometimes our feet collect shoelaces,
other times sweat between toes.
Why have you written the wheezing
on the bottom of your knees?
A tattoo comes unhinged riding
my forearm to the neck of your back.
Under our shade tree, spoiled fruit drops
and a stranger nearby marches off to himself
Fortunately, fortune is a fallacy
and wealth a misnomer for sight.
Yes, my wife, love has an acorn’s strength
and the wisdom of its father, Great Oak.