just like


you're just like leonard cohen,
the way you bring my groceries in,
though you lack the old man cap,
the dark slant, the manners

but you do him better,
pushing the cart and paying the bill,
stacking the cans of beans in the cupboard,
balancing the avacado and tomatoes

you'll never sing my name,
won't make me into a poem,
but you kiss me in the dairy aisle
like he would, like it's the only item on the list