Shopping at IKEA
I think it's the long drive with you that I anticipate most. Sitting in the front seat, the passenger bickering about this little trivialty and that with you because you are the hot blooded Italian and I am mary, mary quite contrary.
Why don't you wear the belt
Because it's too nice
But I chose it just for you
That's why it's too nice to wear
Nice belts are meant to be worn
I'm saving it for a speacial day
What? Our wedding? Your funeral?
The belt is too long
Let me cut the belt
No I'll do it in Italy
But I work for Italy
But in Italy it's done better
But I can do it
No, you can't
Just let me!
How come you're so beautiful?
What the fuck are you talking about?
You're so beautiful
No I'm not
Yes you are
I'm not today
It's a compliment, just take it
Fine. Thank you. Now give me the belt.
Perhaps its our arguments that I love, these ramblings reminiscent of the glorious neverending IKEA silkroads.
Or perhaps it's the moments of silence on the escalator effortlessly climbing to a higher floor, kissing, making up for time lost and enjoying that perpetual moment where escalator steps make our faces level with each other.
Or perhaps, it's walking through the tall IKEA isles, the rows of shelved wood, timber and metal englufing us two that we get the urge to kiss, infantalised by something more heavenly we need to hold on to each other.
Or even, perhaps, it's furniture shopping. The act of doing something conventional married couples do. Ruminating harmoniously on colours, textures, which couch which chair which feature wall which kitchen table top.
We already have chosen our sides of the bed.
There is a choice
There is no choice
There is always a choice
I have no choice
Yes you have a choice
No I have no choice
All I ever wanted was to be with you. I love you. There is no doubt. But perhaps now, I must give myself the choice that I once had denied.
Perhaps, I derserve this.
Perhaps I derserve you.
Perhaps you never deserved me...
.....sei il mio. voglio amorti. ti voglio. ti amo. sei il mio amore.
I did not choose you.
You did not choose me.
We cannot choose our fate.
It was fate and fortune who chose us.
I love you.