lullaby

she drops the bomb on me one night while i am munching popcorns midway through my favorite neo-noir.

'how much do you love me,' she asks in what i perceive as a mock love tone.

i munch the popcorns, trying in vain to make it appear that it drowned out her words. she notices me not noticing and switches off the tv, plunging the room in abject darkness.

'i asked you something'. her tone is now mock angry.

i put my popcorn down and don my thinking cap, and speak in a voice quite unlike mine:

' i love you like the world loves the sun, or the birds the sky,
i love you like a man his wife, and a wife her lover.
i love you, like the mountains, snow, and the stars, their glow.
i love you for who you are, not for what you were or will be.
i love you not only in spirit, but in body,
i love you like a rapist his victim, but also a victim, her savior.
i love, but i also lust: i want your soul but also your guts.
i want you, not forever, but fully; i yearn love, not permanence.
i love the shape of your feet and the make of your breast, and also the hair on your upper lip and fat under your belly.
i love you so much i could lay down my life, but also as much as to kill you if i must.
i care for your dreams and your life and your fears,
just as i do care for your shallow exterior.
i believe in your virtue, your truth and your clarity.
i hail it all but i condemn, too, your vanity, your plastic emotions, your pithy deceptions.
i love you like the lord does lucifer; and baali, sugreev,
i want not to be with you, but be you indeed.'

she is asleep now, the lullaby is complete.

popcorns, tv, neo-noir, repeat.