six boxes of rice

i remember

after a long argument,

a precursor

of days ahead,

when i would be punished

with no sex,

and silence.

i remember trying to get

out of the wedding.

she stared

at me, as i drove the car,

the blue chevy

choking blue fumes behind

us,

my hands white

knuckled on the wheel.

what?

she said.

cancel our wedding, are

you mad?

the invitations are in

the mail.

the cake is on order.

the band is scheduled.

i bought the dress,

the shoes.

we're registered at

Montgomery Wards

and Murphy's.

the make up artist,

the florist

have been paid.

we've rented the knights

of columbus hall.

the minister has

written our vows.

my friends have six boxes

of Uncle Ben's white rice

ready

to be thrown at us

as we leave the church.

i sighed, and said okay.

okay.

i guess if they bought the rice,

we have to

go along with it.