The Hungry Artist

You didn’t catch my attention
by standing in the same ticket line
or win my affection
by ringing my doorbell at nine every night
Whatever it was that had me choose you
must be one of your daily habits
that need no drawing attention to
Like the way you cross your legs
and fold your hands on your knees
when I’m talking to you
or the way you chew your gum
and when it loses its flavor
swallow it down with a piece of cheese
I question my love just as I question the latter –
its obscenity – even if it’s mere routine
For how can I truly love one who
forgets his table manners
or after meals fails to brush his teeth
We watch Zombie movies together regularly
not alien or animal but the human kind
because in them we recognize ourselves
before we could speak
something as ordinary or trivial as
Why do you love me