The positive side to being broke

Broke people are forced to be creative. Hip Hop was born that way [and I mean real Hip Hop, not the "booty-butt cheeks" crap marketed to board white kids with too much disposable income]; inter-city arts programs were cut, and kids in the South Bronx had to make due with what they could find cheap--turn tables, mics, etc.

So, to my point. Valentine's Day is tomorrow, and I have about twenty-four bucks in my bank account until payday. I can't afford to take my wife out to dinner or buy her a Reno 911 DVD, something that I would normally do. I wrote her this poem:

A Soft Place to Fall

Twilight hours—anxiety all the rage,

The warm smell of you

Bundled with mammal care,

In quilted generations—

Thread count, thousands of days;

Krishna is the taste of water,

You’re the waterfall

Because you’ve given me

A soft place to fall.

My cold skeleton meets your flesh.

You babble lucid affections—

Sleepy syllables give weight to love,

Heavy too, at the wake of sunrise.

Only we, or maybe a guinea pig,

Would have it so good—

Marriage isn’t mystical;

It’s sharing life’s deliciousness

Amid the struggle.

God is no fool,

Only plays one on TV.

Our trajectory is backward

Into transcendence, you and I.

She said it made her year [and yes, she gave me permission to post it here].