BeMine

We don't live downtown, in a high rise building situated comfortably between a dry cleaners and an Indian take out place, but we can peer through our blinds and see the city alive with light and color when the sun goes down.  We don't have a lot of money, but we have what we like and we sure like what we have, so we're happy, money is no object when the objective is simply to smile.  We get along, we have our days and our moments and sure yeah we have full weekends where you fall asleep on the couch watching sportscenter and I stay up till my eyes clamp shut around 3:15 in the morning waiting for you to come to bed, but we like each other a lot, and you keep getting cuter, so I'd say we're doing just fine.  We don't have a hammock anymore, since your sister's boyfriend came over and broke it because he was too fat to sit in it but he did anyway, and I didn't get mad even though I cried after they left because I loved that hammock, but we could probably pretend with chairs and blankets and a pully-system (you would have to make it, I'm bad with my hands).  We don't have a baby, but we have a dog, and she's like a baby covered in fur and we're both perfectly happy with that.  We don't live in a beautiful flat high above the townhouses and brownstones lining the streets with dusty snow and dirt forming brown lines and spots all over the pavement, with foliage in the front yard that somebody else tends to because we're too busy with our careers, and beautiful babies that are basically the same as the plants except they're humans.  No, we don't have that, but I don't think we want it.  I'd rather sit on this couch that we bought off of craigslist and watch reruns of Seinfeld with you, drink a bottle of red wine and stay up past midnight, laugh at stupid things you say and catch myself staring at you because you're so-so-perfect.  I'd much rather do that any day of my existence than anything else anybody has to offer.  You're mine.