Rascality, Heroic

Even in my foul mood– as our love grows old and the butter brown–
I still can’t forget when I first loved her in the Tenderloin,
Near the San Francisco Bay,
When the thought of losing her first crossed my mind.

Photo by Matthew Henry from Burst


  1. Ze, I’ve been on a short, self-imposed sabbatical commenting about written words. Missed it but glad to be back. Read this poem a few times. The clarity and directness at first, belied the profound truth about marriage or any deeply loving relationship.

    The first moment of realization of being in love with your partner is followed so closely by the thought or fear of losing the same person. It hits you euphorically in the brain, the heart, and gut! You captured the sentiment here so clearly using common events like buying and cooking meat:

    – “What cut of man is husband?” has been asked in different ways for thousands of years, and yet the complete answer is elusive.

    – “…as our love grows old and the butter brown…” sweetly describes the norms of a couple in love.

    – “…when I first loved her in the Tenderloin…” deliciously captures love’s tenderness. No other meat is as tender.

    The powerful truth about love in deeply committed relationships is transparently captured here. The last few lines are quite romantic. Kudos, my friend! Vida

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thanks for the lovely critique, Vida. I was starting to miss your deep dives into my work. Yes, you bring up many great points. “What kind of man makes a good husband?” is and will be a question that will be asked so long as there are humans on earth. There is no right or wrong or perfect man, there are only those that try and want to be the best for their spouse or partner and those that don’t. Thanks again for your support, Mr. Lustre.


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