For the hell of it
Marriage, two by two, we act in the ache of it.
All night across the city,
men kneel before women with a new question;
while girls curl like eels, with irises around their chests---
saying stay with me, wife me.
All night, certainty cloaks the city,
veils what we all are in the morning,
like little reeks of promises,
with films of sweat after sleeping deeply.
Our youthful enthusiasm
screaming for a choice , at least.
To each their poison,
their someone at home.
To each their ring and albatross.
To each their cross.
To each their allergy and pleasure.
Each to their frame,
each to their mold.
To each their fuel and code.
To each their last chance,
their good choice,
their safe bet.
To marrying up,
To marrying hastily.
For richer or poorer
or the drugs and notoriety.
For the resolve of not wanting kids.
For the love that's long gone.
For the hell of it.