let's get married

we should get married,
she whispers to you
as you pretend to be asleep
or dead,
you haven't decided which
exactly quite yet.
let's get married, she
says, as she slowly
scratches your back
in a circular motion,
continually missing
the itchy spot that you have.
let's move in together,
maybe buy a house,
get a cat, a dog,
a picket fence.
you like to barbeque
don't you? we could grill
out at night,
have the neighbors over
for cocktails
and dinner.
a house with a pool and a shed,
a big shed
where you could
keep the lawn mower
and weed whacker.
you blink your eyes into
the pillow
and run the words weed
whacker through your brain.
you pretend to snore,
burrowing your head
deeper and deeper
into the pillow almost
losing consciousness from
the lack of air.