Twolips

Twolips, threelips,
Fourlips, yourlips.
Can always use
A couple more lips.
Gathered both those lips
You asked for.
Bought them from
The strangest store.
Let's keep them here
Inside this vase.
Can't glue them back onto a face.
This extra pair of lips is ours.
Oh, I see…
You wanted flowers.

-B.C. Byron

This poem stems (haha) from a small misunderstanding about flowers at my house. I won’t relate to you all the details of my long and difficult search through many bizarre flea markets a niche stores in my attempt to fulfill this mistaken Valentine’s Day request. The final result was certainly not to my taste and did seem incongruous with my wife’s usual style, but I felt accomplished and excited to present my find nonetheless. My wife’s reaction to the spooky bouquet was about what you might expect. The vase was nice, though. Don’t worry, the lips were plastic, I think, and that store is no longer in operation.

Okay, okay. I completely made up the story. I couldn’t find the lips. So this poem ends up as just anothet souped-up version of a dad joke. My wife’s favorite flower is actually a daffodil, which never seem to be available when I go to buy her a bouquet. The few times I have found daffodils at the supermarket, they were wilted and a bit sad. They say it’s the thought that counts, but shriveled, droopy thoughts are not what I want to convey. I’m finding as an adult that it’s frtting harder and harder to surprise people with things. What surprises and delights more than presents is going out of your way to spend time with someone and to straightforwardly tell them why they are so important to you. Most adults can choose their own presents better than you can, so give them yourself and your actual thoughts. It will mean a whole heap more to them than a jar of disembodied lips.