the milk is really good, but

will you marry me,

she asks in a loving whisper,

as we lie

exhausted, basking in

the afterglow

of making love.

huh?

i say, what brings

that up?

well,

my mother says that

you're getting the milk

for free,

without buying

the cow.

what?

what cow?

i don't understand

the metaphor.

she's calling you a cow?

that's not nice.

oh you, she says. i'm not a cow.

i'm not saying the milk

isn't good,

i tell her,

but do we need to sign

a business contract

to keep it flowing?