compromise

when you first
meet there is so
much passion.
you can't keep
your hands off
of one another.
you make love
in the back seat
of your car,
stairwells,
and little pockets
of woods
along the parkway.
you text all day
saying clever things
that can mean
other things.
then things change.
they are just
little things at
first, like hold
my purse while i
try this skirt on.
or she says,
umm, on your way
home do you mind
picking me up a
box of chocolates
and a few personal
items that i need
this particular
week. then, it's
my mother wants
you to clean out
her gutters this
weekend, you'll
only miss the first
half of the game,
so i hope it's
okay. the next thing
you know, she's
got the walk in
closet and is
driving your car.
you're eating vegetables
and shaping tofu
into the shape
of a turkey.
you lose your taste
for ham.
you're separating
plastic and glass.
you move your poker
game to someone else's
house so that she
can have the livingroom
for a jewelry party.
you sleep
in the guest room
because of your snoring.
she turns her
head so that you can
kiss her cheek,
not her
lips, so as not
to smudge her
lipstick. once a
month seems plenty
for her now. you
remember fondly
the good old days,
about a month ago.