Poetry: The First Time I Heard You Snore

My partner, Daz, is simply the best human being I have ever met. About 5 years ago, I was alone. Unhealthy, broke, moving to a cheaper apartment, working a job I hated for far less money than I needed.  I sat down one night and literally made a list of what I wanted in a partner. I included important things, like honest and kindness.  I included surface things like tallness and possibly an accent. I literally wrote it down and then I forgot about it.
I met him 3 weeks later. And it was immediately clear to me that I got exactly what I wished for. The truth is that I am a goofy woman.  Sure, I can be smart and sweet and girly, but I have a goofy streak eight miles wide. Some of it is my Asperger’s and my love of wordplay and puns that should never be uttered aloud. The balance of it is that weirdly comfortable defense mechanism that kicks in when I fear I will be ridiculed or hurt or called out. But Daz – he can handle it. He is just as fun and clever and goofy. We understand each other’s language. And yes, he is tall and from England.
And before it seems all too smushy and unreal, it took me 45 years to find this love.
I’m here for the long haul. I am grateful for him every day. He is wonderful with my son. My dog Izzy LOVES him. And he allows me to be myself – whatever creative endeavor is always supported and expanded by him being around. He is an amazing painter and muralist and quirky philosophizer. He reminds me to celebrate everyday.
dazmural
So this is for my love, my partner as we head into another year together:
The First Time I Heard You Snore
And so in the shadow of my bed,
You breathed a song of the soul traveling
The deep groove of a dream.
The quiet, light sleeper drifting in and out of consciousness
Was abandoned at the edge of the moonlit beach
Left behind waving his arms in the wake
While the primordial swimmer explorer in you
Dove again and again
Chasing the adventure
Seeking treasure
Loving the mystery
Solving for x
The cool cavern of your ribs expanding
The Lascaux painting of your heart tattoo
An oscillating legend to the map
Of your real heart
thrumming
The beat of pirate oars
warrior scimitars
magick leaves
wisdom of aliens
intimate journeys of imagination
I laid my hand very carefully on your arm
As not to wake you but to connect
To what you had
awakened in me
In that sweet storm of dark…
And for a few seconds, my spirit hung in the balance
Of this world and the others
Then gave myself over to the rising tide
And dreamed of flying.

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