But What If We Like It?

As we entered the restaurant hand-in-hand,

a young man stalked through the door.

his face was set at once in an expression

both stony and sullen.

Close on his heels, a young woman came running,

her fists desperately pummeling his back while she yelled,

"Goddamn you! Come back here and be nice to me!"

That poignant, impossibly self-contradictory plea

aimed at a retreating back

touched my heart.

I turned to you.

"Isn't it nice to see young couples

working things out?"

You smiled.

You didn't walk out.

I didn't chase after you.

You were nice to me.

Like you always are.

And I loved you.

Like I always do.