Hello my darling, my dog from hell. Hello my baby, my apple, my eye. Today is a very special day: the anniversary of one year of us. The expiration date of our desire, our inauguration of mutual deception. Can you believe we’ve made it this far? One year of swooshing hearts. One year of laugh-cry and winky-eye. One year of press cameras clicking at our sight – and you, my baby, hiding your face. I wanted to say, on this here day: I love you, from the bottom of my glass.
Oh, the things I would do, and do for you! I’d work a job and buy a door (if only they’d let me have one in here). I’d laugh at your poorly executed jokes. I’d cross a medium-size body of water – where you can see the shore if you squint your eyes. I’d move to a mountain (if you moved there with me, and baked my bread and herded the goats). I’d walk 80 miles, and crawl a few more (in the right footwear, with elbow pads). I’d buy you the world, and sell it at a profit. Then I’d use the profit to pay my bail.
Oh the things I would do, yes, do to you (if only they were legal once again)! I’d tickle and tease the nooks of your toes. I’d slither through the pipes of your house and make the wheezing sound of love. I’d get you in the mood, I’d get you. Slide my knee across your belly, lock my hands behind your head. Push my shoulder into your face and press my chest on top of yours. Then hold you, just hold you, the whole you, my hole you. I’d give you a kiss on that open hole.
My darling, my apple, my dog from hell. My heart, my eyes, my blistered feet. Welcome with me the rest of my wife. Welcome the death of our wet romance; witness the birth of our rock-hard love. Happy anniversary.
— Nele Ruckelshausen
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