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“Romcom” is short for “romantic comedy,” my favorite kind of movie. This ended up being another relationship poem. Just about the only kind I write these days.
romcoms
like a glimpse over the wall
into the neighbor’s much nicer yard
the one with a new grill
and a pool and a picnic table
where there’s plenty of cold lemonade
condensation on a glass pitcher
endless afternoons of happiness
with someone who looks into your eyes
like they were the whole world
there are friends around the table, laughing
telling stories and eating
you laugh with them, delighted
to find that these people are real
sometimes she reaches over
squeezes your hand
or puts her fingers on the back of your neck
as if to say, “I’m real, too”
when you get up to take your plate
into the house, she follows
you kiss in the kitchen, one hand
still holding the plate, the other
brushing her hair back over one ear
later someone lights a fire in the stone circle
and everyone gathers around it, dreaming aloud
she is close beside you
if this is the last night ever
if they never make a sequel
it will have been enough
Very sweet poem! But the grass only appears greener.
Thanks, Howard.
i agree with howard. there’s probably something wrong with those people, too, though it’s a nice wish to think of a lovely, simple sweetness.