You Get the Picture

“Marry me,” is all she ever said
to the rock next to a hard place.
She didn’t actually
want to exchange vows
with a boulder, she just felt
like expressing herself to someone
who wouldn’t get carried away
with reception planning
and chicken dancing,
like the traditions of her mother
and mother’s mother (you get the picture).

She sat upon the boulder,
palms down to the cold stone,
completing a kind of silent prayer
that would, in her mind,
infuse this lifeless mass with personality.

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