I want to grow old with you 9/17/12

I want to grow old with you
& by that I mean,
3 years from now
the crackle & pop of our argument
will confuse igniting with extinguishing
you as beloved,
may you find solace in this phrase:
    I am not perfect,
    but I am growing.
Sometimes crooked from want
    of fair-weather & starshine
Sometimes straight from want
    of metacognition & dark matter
I am not perfect, but I am yours.
if I can know your misstep
your sideways trot and up-down-up canter
if it shall ever come to sound as my own,
we will get our natural gait
even 30 years hence
when I am cussing & spitting
& have forgotten this backseat poem
which I am trying to kiss into the inseam of your lip
& moreover after much under
I will remember- you are not perfect,
but you are growing
not to meet my fantasy
not like a childhood snowman
to consistently melt once the Oklahoman perogative sweeps in
you are growing like perspiration during a race I'll never win
I may not even finish
like it's mid-July & I cannot breathe
but if I could, I'd scream
for the sloven distraction
of winter's wild
you are real
as the vacant air that encircles me
(which I hardly notice)
as the taste of the temperature from your distance
(which I do)
& together we are strange
we are unorganized
like thriftstore silverware
like white hands clapping in a southern baptist church
but when we meet the beat,
when we are useful and wise,
it is a reason to believe in miracles
the purpose of building all that wonder
I see the hanging gardens of babylon in your focused gaze
I feel the colossus of rhodes in your mediated touch
someday I want the wrinkles of my hand
to invade into yours from clasping
the anchor of us too tight
may you find solace in this phrase-
the day will come when I will release you
our beauty & passion are youthful joys
may it be the same day, same hour, same moment
when you find no need for this backseat poem
may the embers of lust & interest spark slowly
like a memory changed
chained from then to now, from now to
growing crooked from want of fair-weather & starshine
growing straight by a choice of watering
the love in each other.