he still brings me coffee when I’m writing
like it’s important to him because it is to me.
He still gropes me on elevators,
in corners at parties, tells me I smell good.
He still thanks me for making dinner,
folding clothes, buying ice cream.
He still makes me giggle, makes me blush,
makes love to me as if we were 19.
And it still feels uncomplicated and new —
growing old with this man.