Argument As Intimacy

At breakfast she places the pitcher of milk
on top of my tiny, helpless baby aspirin.
I can’t decide if this is from calloused indifference,
calculated aggression or careless abandon.

Do I retaliate by pushing her aspirin aside? No,
I do not because I am not a vengeful sort
but pouring from the kettle I might allow
her pouch of Earl Gray to jump overboard

into the saucer, whereupon she may inquire,
owing to her thirst for scientific knowledge,
if the inordinate number of blueberries
in my bowl of cereal is really necessary

for its anti-oxidant property or if my hoarding of them
was done with heedless disregard thus depriving her
of a fair portion to do battle with her free radicals
in their appointed mission to oxidize her.

Actually none of this happened except

for the inadvertent lifting of my aspirin, soon forgotten
since I am distracted by something in the newspaper
and she is staring through the window at a hummingbird
working hard just to stay in place as our tea bags mingle.