Same Old Song

I’ve heard a few lovebirds singing the same sweet song to each other amongst the white and pink blossoms of spring. “I love you so much I want to put you in my pocket” they sing to one another. Their song sounds shrill to me. I can only imagine folding my sweet love up like so many notes passed in grade school classrooms, and tucking her away in my pocket to live alongside crumbs and lint and cigarettes and toothpicks. Shouldn’t she go somewhere better than my pocket? If I loved her I’d at least let her live under hat or in my bookbag where there’s much more room and far less itchy crumbs and sharpened sticks.