On Balance (Poetry)

If I had married him
I’d now be doing ‘wistful’ from over there —
where all the grass seems lusher
and money grows
if not on trees then in
those Midas-haunted vaults of his — it’s
interesting how perspective lends
a clearer take on love.

Am I not rich in other things? —
My thoughts my own, my choices reasonable
within the stated limits
and — credit given where it’s due —
if I’d latched on to him
I know the score —
my rating would have simply soared —
life would be all-too-easy street —
                                fur-lined.

Love’s a poor investment over time —
while passion’s index slumps
divorce and bankruptcy together climb.
I only gambled once and lost my shirt
and yes — I have regrets
and often worry long into the night
when things get tight...
then the balance shifts a fraction from the red.

The bills get settled just before they’re late —
what’s owed is always paid
inside the margin without penalty.
Love’s charge-card has a too-expensive rate
for years of comfort spending
while no bonus swells the modest joint account —
no jackpot winning break —
and dreams cannot be saved.