Hello, I love you, we're all going to die: Part 1

A poem for (every) February 14th

Photo by Trish H-C on Unsplash

The title of the post is a shout-out to the rector of my church, who said something similar last Sunday to remind us that, this year, Valentine’s Day and Ash Wednesday fall on the same date. Here’s how I feel about one of those observances.

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CHINESE RESTAURANTS AND MOVIE THEATERS


It works on December 25th, I am promised by friends
who know, so why not on the 14th of February? 
Brush past some mylar hearts in the lobby
of the Roxy or the Kowloon Palace,
wait till the kung pao chicken is plated
or the first trailer flashes up, and just like that
today is simply a day, yours as much as anyone’s,
even if you have no sweetheart or are no sweetheart,
or are allergic to chocolate or prefer a spray of rosemary
to any dozen roses, even if your heart
is its own shape, not so much trimmed with lace
as frayed around the edges -– still, here, a grateful distance
from the clamor of merchants and true believers,
the One-Plus-Ones entangled in each other’s gaze, 
here while you chopstick-fumble wicked peppers
to one side of the plate or laugh in surprise
at a plot twist, here you can be One, not Two-Minus-One,
alone in company with other Ones at other tables, sprawled
in other rows, exchanging without word or glance
the love-gift of agreement that this need not be Our Day
but just the day it is, no frills or decorations called for,
except maybe an extra slip inside the fortune cookie.
Or not. A single fortune is enough. A single fortune is fine.

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[You can listen to an audio recording of the poem using the little widget above the photograph.]

It’s salutary for a beige Protestant American to live through one annual holiday widely celebrated in her culture which has … nothing to do with her own life and practices. For me, that’s Valentine’s Day. If it’s a big day for you, then more power to you; I wish you joy with the sweetheart of your choice, and I’ll be over here at my usual table for one with a book and the veggie and cashew stir-fry. No hard feelings.

And if you’re reading this poem and asking yourself, “Why wouldn’t Chinese food and a movie make a good Valentine’s Day date?” … well, okay, I suppose it would. I was just hoping you’d pick the Italian place down the street, and a nice slow stroll home afterwards. Wouldn’t that be more romantic? You Twos enjoy the red wine and the tiramisu and the strolling violinist; let the Ones have the spring rolls and the popcorn and the Dolby sound.