My wife is fond of flying flags. I
am not. Ani l’dodi v’dodi li,
except insofar as it’s implicated me
in her shit. Interlocutors will cry
foul, but Justice—I am one—won’t shy
from fighting’s fighting words: Yes, dear; I see.
It’s as the saying goes, that women be
inverting flags; Senators, please try
to grasp that staying married’s long required
through long gray years to learn just how and when
to pay the bill and wait out in the car
while the missus tries to get the waiter fired—
we rib-robbed Adams, what are we, but men?—
admitted to, and drinking at, the bar.