Promise me we won't

be like our parents

and that our kids won't

have to listen to us argue

with their backs

against  their bedroom door

and with their ear

pressed so hard

against it that it could break

through the frame.

Promise me that we won't

laugh through a divorce

and that we won't

slap our knees about the reasons

that we despise eachother's company

and that we won't sneer sly remaks

into each other's ears

like snakes hungry for a host

to poison.

Promise me that we won't

eat dinner quietly

and that we will raise our laughter

to the passengers in planes above

and that the neighbors will think

our minds are on a one way ticket

to Italy, Mexico, anywhere

with the scents that waft from

the windows.

Promise me that we won't stop

being in love

and that life will always feel

like a cool, fall morning

and that our bedroom will be

a sanctum for the air

that only you and I know

how to breathe just the right way.

Promise me that we won't ever go

without saying goodnight

and that the nights spent

in foreign places wishing

that a pillow were a pair of arms

will only be temporary

and that the sky won't crack when you

have to be away.

Promise me that

we won't ever be like our parents.

They are not a pair

I ever want to be.