Sometimes Marriage

is a pair of snow chains

is a faucet you’re not sure to leave dripping
or shut off good and hard

is the unplowed driveway you hesitate in front of
then slide forward and you’re stuck

is not sure how the thermostat works

is are you saying you almost left the house without the keys?

is if we lived here we’d have no neighbors but did you notice
the empty lot we can see from the porch has a sewer line?

is forgetting your boots

is the rocks and pinecones you pile behind each tire

is the jangling cold and wet in your hands as you fail
and fail to untangle