One of them
carried a Jenga piece
in case she had to knock on wood.
Another slept with a bar of soap
under her pillow
even at my place
because she liked to smell
and fondle it.
The saddest called me
a psychopath
after I brought her flowers
though she's been taking meds
for half her life, been diagnosed.
Then there was the nut
my so-called friends all loathed.
We sometimes wish we'd wifed it.
(We speak in Royal We.)
But whoever said that opposites attract
was waxing roses.
The crazy ones don't find me.
We sniff each other out.
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