My Funny Valentine

We saw this on a Goodwill together weeks ago so it became out Valentine’s Day project.

We exchanged other gifts as well. He got me vice grips per request (he even explained some of the history of the company and that he’d chosen these ones carefully, for lack of malocclusion), very nice cup cozies, which are kind of my thing, and also a mini Zen garden which he explained was “small enough that Squeakers wouldn’t confuse it for a little box”. There was also a .15 cent opened bag of dry fruit from Big Lots big clearance deal shelf, but I’m not sure if those were part of the gift or just happened to be near where he’d laid the other things out. He had a nice card for me too, which stated, “Roses are red.” And the star of the show: A page of three poems composed at the Smith Corona script typewriter, with explanations that it was producing inconsistent line spacing, and that the paper he typed on was one of the last remaining sheets of Strathmore 75% linen. He had contacted the company when he lived in New Hampshire and was told they had discontinued production of it when the century old machine used to make it finally gave out.

I’m touched that he used one of his last sheets for my poems, and that he chose precious highlights from our life.

I, in turn, gifted him a variety of sweet treats including Chocodate almond-stuffed, chocolate-dipped dates, with and without coconut, shards of a prototype sugar cookie made by my friend Christina, milk chocolate bulk coating that was on sale, double chip cookies, a frosted croissant, and overripe pears from a different store’s clearance, and fresh strawberries since we hadn’t had them for a while. And I brought my electric fondue pot so we could make a melty lunch of it, which went over quite well with the addition of a shared banana. I also made us a grilled cheese and onion sandwich in the Foreman grill and we shared a Clausen pickle, as he mentioned them in his poem.

My poem for him too the form of a vintage PPG Valentine. I also read him a few more in draft for from my travel notebook.

After lunch we retired to the couch and did our respective social media stuff, then feel asleep sitting up hugging each other while attempting to watch Logan’s Run.

Really, I couldn’t ask for any better.


– Dit



the heat of his neck as he hatched from his nap 

was heaven wrapped in a cocoon of blankets 

drifting toward the shore of being awake

sleep tides still trying to pull him under
– Dit