like a ritual, most Fridays, even with the best intentions and meat defrosting in the sink, we order pizza.
we watch movie after movie and talk til our eyelids can't stay open any longer.
he tells me of his secret ambitions and I tell him of my greatest desires
and my feet rub against each other, and I know I've had too much to drink.
at some point the light switches off and were cuddled deep into the blankets
and I think to myself, are we boring? and I always say, no, we're not. we're perfect.