This one is dedicated to those women who have tried marriage and not flourished in it, and who are not dead yet but are resistant to going there again.

I can’t stay long – I’ll simply take a kiss
if you don’t mind, but I won’t fall for you.
I’ll lose out on some ecstasy; I’ll miss
your best I guess, but I’ll miss tantrums too.
You’ve baggage on your shoulders, and your back
is stuck with obligations sharp as spears.
Although I lace my words with rue, the fact
is I decline to spend compressing years
involved with you the way you’d soon insist,
together born again to marry, fit
for worship, stress, and straining hip and hand.
You praised me half to crazy when we kissed
and almost made me lose myself … but sit
up straight, behave I say, and let me stand.