Wedding Day

When the bowtied band
that no one danced to
packed and slipped away
and the crumbs of the
crayon cake had dried
on the last paper plate,
we ditched the K of C hall.
Two hundred miles later,
Costello’s Motor Inn held
Kingston’s last vacancy.
I watched you undress
under the bare lightbulb
in the closet bathroom,
then shared warm Cold Duck,
ignoring the TV as it annoyed
the dying air conditioner.
When the champagne bottle stood
the sill with a carryout twelve,
the blue beams of Mr. Costello’s
neon reputation said it
was time to draw the curtains
and take off my shoes.

One room over, laughter.
I look at you as you look at me.
We have been together
longer than we can know.

First published Ex Libris (1988).