Sometimes you like to fight about the tub ring,
Or how she never keeps the records straight.
The casserole that lacked a certain something,
Or how she missed an all-important date.
It’s plain she used to like you better when you
Drank vodka from a melon with a straw,
And oaths you shouted heated up the venue,
With hopes you cherished still unformed and raw.
It’s funny isn’t it, how people shape-shift?
I’m sure she’s changed a lot, too, through the years.
Her dreams of glory have been given short shrift
Beneath a load of problems, aches and tears.
Yet sometimes she still sees the loud, fun-loving
Guy she used to know, and liked so much.
Beyond the mental pushing and the shoving,
She has become dependent on your touch.