I’m not a poet. Just thought that I’d throw that little disclaimer out there before we move on.

A group of friends and I went to United States of Mind last night for their open mic poetry reading. I’ve been a lurker there for quite sometime, again, not being a poet, but enjoying the creative atmosphere. Last night I decided to read for the first time. The only poems that I’d written (other than that Loving Jesus People piece from a few weeks back) were for my wife. You see, one of the downsides of being a writer is that you’re probably never going to get rich doing it. So for one of our anniversaries, the paper one I think, I found myself a little short on funds. One of the upsides of being a writer, with an understanding spouse, is that I wrote three poems for the anniversary, which she framed and put in our bedroom. Yeah, it was the equivalent of being a kid and making a Mother’s Day card with crayons and a folded piece of paper (a stunt I also pulled this year with my mom, because, well, I found myself short of funds again. I’m conveniently short of funds during holidays that don’t involve me. Especially since new comic book day is mid-week.)

This, unfortunately, ties into the activity I find myself being forced into tonight because I lost our most recent debate (“debate” is one of those marriage terms that describes the wife informing the husband of what their plans are and the husband offering up mild protest before the inevitable “yes, dear”). I’m going roller-blading with my wife. You see, I only learned to roller blade in order to hang out more often with my wife when we were still dating. It was my contention that among the many blessings of marriage was guilt free sex and never having to do the stuff that I did when I was dating. My list of stuff included dancing and roller blading.

Apparently somewhere in my many ramblings, my ever attentive wife pointed out, I once said that people should always do the things they did when they were dating once they were married. My reasoning was that smart guys should thus keep that list small. It also set their potential wives expectations lower, the chief benefit of that being that anything we do above those minimal expectations would earn us brownie points resulting in delighted wives, extra servings at dinner, and our wives bragging to their friends about what a great husband they have.

Hoisted once more on the pitard of my own words. Thus, I’m going roller blading and there aren’t enough poems that I could write to get me out of it.

Comment on this bit of rantus interruptus anyway you want (I don’t know where you’re reading it from) but if you want to guarantee me seeing it, do so at my message board.