PERFECTLY NORMAL

by Bryan Borland

When her lips swell to extreme proportions
I tell her it’s perfectly normal -
perfectly normal in the context
of a severe allergic reaction,
but my words seem to comfort her.

When she takes her Ambien early
and calls me to say, slurring her words,
she’s watching infomercials
and parading about
in a t-shirt and high heels to strengthen her calves,
I tell her it’s
perfectly normal -
perfectly normal in the context of
sleeping medication
and a deep love of shoes.

When she tells me not to come
near her with a turkey baster,
that she is unsure about surrogacy,
that if we have a child she must be named
Maggie Apple,
I tell her it’s perfectly normal -
perfectly normal to name your children after fruit,
after all, the apple don’t fall far from the fruit tree.

When I came out to her,
she said she’d always thought we’d end up
together, that her grandmother had a quilt
ready to give to us as a wedding gift,
that when we’d visit her, we’d
just have to pretend because
she wanted that damn quilt,
I told her it was perfectly normal -
perfectly normal in the context of
our relationship,
gay to girl,
fag to hag,
demanding, hard-headed princess to
demanding, hard-headed princess.

It’s a safe bet
when you see us laughing,
we’re laughing at you or
at ourselves,
at our sexless marriage without
the option of divorce, at
the fact that come tease or tragedy
she’ll always be the woman in my life.

© Bryan Borland