The dishes are chipped,

The glasses mismatched.

Our napkins are worn to shreds.


We’d been in a funk

Over ugly old junk

When an idea popped into our heads.


Let’s get married, I said,

Thinking ahead,

Of crystal and china and brass.


We’ll get great gifts galore,

Live like Zsa Zsa Gabor.

Friends will think we’re really high class.


My true love agreed.

It was a done deed,

But for one small glitch, of course.


Before we could head

Down the aisle to wed,

We’d have to get a divorce.