I do

We vowed we wouldn't be,

a parable, or

a long long long lane, or

a cramped car ride

with skeleton branches

whipping past the windows, or

an icicle gaze across the table,

a stretching formica gulf

We vowed we would be

tendrils,

sprouting raw winter wheat.

Something leafy,

something summery.

A lime, mossy, cicada song

a cultivated garden

a half and a half

hovering,

in the unrealistic concave

of each other's heart

we vowed

all this