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Feather Pillowed Fighting Stalk

My handsome brown-skinned husband
was once again velvet-voiced complaining
just this morning
while I was staring
glaring at my overstuffed sock drawer,

“You are so consistently ambivalent
and reliably inconsistent
I have no idea what’s coming next
from your lack of erection direction.

You ‘both-and’ everything
hopelessly,
yet tirelessly,
looking for the perfectly balanced win-win
in a win-lose
eat or be eaten world.
I have no idea
what you would do without me.”

Although I somewhat more hopefully resemble this remark
and I can see he is not not wrong,
or right,
totally dark or totally bright,
all his “either black or white”
left-brain dominance
does sound impatiently judgmental.

So, in an impulsive moment of ginger anger,
I respond

“You are so poor
you’ve never had two co-incidental thoughts
to rub together.”

“Is that like a mixed metaphor
or something sinister
unpulled together?
Anyway, that sounds shockingly ungenerous
from win-win you.”

“Sorry if I hurt your feelings.”

“What feelings?”

“I think my question is
Which feelings did I hurt?”

“My feelings about personal wealth
and left-embodied with right-mind cooperative
win-win political health
to handle your dipolar co-arising appositions.”

Maybe I’ll go with one old dark sock
and one white privileged.

Standard

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