Some time ago
before I was married
to the woman I’m married to now
I began the ridiculous process
of learning to speak Chinese.
Not because I needed to speak
Chinese. And not, as you might expect,
to educate myself.
But to impress a woman.
This woman. Who would one day
be the woman I married
may or may not have been impressed
by my having begun to learn the language
commonly spoken in the city where
she then lived. But to this day,
if you ask,
I can recite my phone number
from those days so long ago
as such: ba san ba - yi qi yi ba.
Do not call this number.
It is not mine anymore.
And anyway, I haven’t told you the
area code, because the muscle
that pumps the blood
that moves the oxygen to my brain
has no area code.
If you learn one thing
from having read this poem
learn that.

Via: Red Wheelbarrow.

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