State Bird

You told me
Wisconsin’s
state bird is
your name--

I replied
     Dogwood Violet
forgetting
the difference
between flora
       and fauna
          although
     I’ve dated both
                rams, orchids,
                daisies, and
                bulls
     to no avail.

You corrected me
asked me how I prefer
eggs to be prepared
or if I pepper the pizza
pasties we purchased

then stopped


my poetry

with a Van Dyke
trip over the coffee
table; your way
of telling me
not to be
cheesy.

And that’s why
this poem has no
ending line like

                     I tripped too
                     or
                     you trip I follow.

It’s stained
with the butter from
cooking me breakfast.