Adjectives and Nouns

I loved it when you were learning And practiced with adjectives at every opportunity You would frame my face within your hands And kiss me fiercely before announcing “Happy kiss” A kiss that had no special reason, coming as a sample Proving the glow upon your face was real and marvelous That you were at home, safe within my heart. I loved your questions that confused me “Shake hands and say How do you do . . . . How do you do what?” And you would wait for an answer with that cute frown And there was no answer other than “That’s what we say” “You’re crazy!” she’d respond. “Thank you, you’re welcome! Welcome? Welcome to where, to what? That’s what you say, right? English is for crazy people!” You loved autumn above all seasons Pointing and practicing, “Leaf . . . . bush . . . . torrente . . . . “Stream,” I’d tell you and you would nod pertly And repeat, “stream . . . . stream . That’s a pretty word.” “Sure, and gonorrhea sounds like a South Sea island English is crazy, remember?” But you would ignore me and walk on muttering “Stream . . . . torrente . . . . stream . . . . stream.” That night we sat on the sofa You with your legs tucked beneath you And you took my hand with eyes teary bright “Sometimes,” you said, “I want to lock the door Never open for anybody. Food is not important I just want to stay here, inside this place Here, beside you, inside your arms Because I am frightened of everything out there.” Existence was defined by emptiness Your side of the bed, the chair before me at the table The seat belt dangling and your place on the sofa Your side of the dresser, your towels on the rack Your shampoo and your place to lay out clothes for tomorrow Everything was abbreviated and nothing complete Because reality knocked at the door And everything you feared invited us to this moment