You ask, what does it feel like to be married for 50 years
To be with the same man
But I think, not the same man at all
First was the dreamy prophet in sandals
Who I snatched from the jaws of a zen center
And introduced to family life
Who turned into a bearded woodsman with a sledge hammer
Smashing Chrysler engines in a junkyard
Who then shaved, got a real job and started
Drinking until I found all the empty vodka
Bottles and he sobered up
And became a teacher and I became a lawyer
Went through two dogs, five cats, two guinea pigs, and two children.
For 50 years.
What a long long time I say
To be married to so many different men
I look over at him
In his current incarnation
Do I know you I ask?