Love In Malibu Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

When you stepped in front of me
to get your silly stamps and mail
that all important letter to who knows
I thought you brash and rude,
and when you took the right of way
on thirtysecond street, can you not see?
When, in the parking lot at Trader Joe's
you wiped my taillight and the fender too,
then kept the pen I loaned you (yes a CROSS)
as if it were your own, you gave your address
as the beach of Malibu and said so casually
Why don't you stop on Tuesday for a drink?
And then you left me, with my broken car
and quite bewildered though this changed
when Tuesday changed the world.

Today, I live in Malibu, right on the beach,
we woke to a most pleasant southern sun,
and then you asked me, let me now repeat:
When you, my cityslicker hubby come to me
and say I Love You into either of my ears,
would you come out with it and tell me now,
are you, be honest now, BULLSHITTING ME?