In my younger
and more vulnerable years,
my father gave me some advice
that I’ve been turning over
in my mind ever since.
“Whenever you feel
like criticizing anyone,”
he told me, “just remember
“that all the people
in this world
haven’t had the advantages
that you’ve had.”
I don’t want to talk
about my ex husband.
Or my wedding.
It makes me sad,
and I want to be happy.
You used to like
to make me happy.
You didn’t love him.
It was fine for you, wasn’t it?
Crowding into my life.
Riding in my white car.
Wearing your romantic uniform
that hid who you were
or where you came from.
Breaking my heart
with your impossible love.
And then going off to your great
adventure overseas, leaving…
I told you I’d come back
for you, in my letter.
You said you’d wait.
I’d waited so long.
We were so close
in our month of love.
Put on your uniform.
That’s foolish.
Oh, good.
Let’s be foolish.
Put on your uniform
and we’ll turn out
all the lights
except for a single candle,
and I’ll let you tell me
you love me.
Do you remember that night?
Mm… that still October night.
I felt married to you
ever since.
I knew that
if I could kiss you…
If I could kiss you…
I love you, Jay.
Did you know that I bought
this house
just to be across
the bay from you?
Don’t say that.
I’ll start to cry again.
Oh, Jay.
It’s the color of the light
on your dock.
But…
you know I can’t wear it.
You wear it for me.
I’ll love you forever.
Kiss me.
Be my lover.
Stay my lover.
I’ll be your husband.
Husband and lover.