I'm Adalimone and this is The Slowdown.

I am often laughing with my husband about our own idiosyncrasies.

The part of us that only we know, the things that could never be said to anyone else,

each other.

I love that private language that lexicon, my private moments, his private moments.

I have it with good friends too, the things that don't require explanation.

That's the real history of us.

In today's poem, we see the private language of habits, desires, and boundaries unfold.

I love how this poem gives us a glimpse into the private world of love.

This is a poem by Tracy Bremhal.

I would do anything for love, but I won't cook lobster.

Their loyal sea rubies and deserve better than a pinch of lemon and herb butter.

But I'll shower, hot enough to brighten you, make zineas of your shoulders, and steal

the towels when it's over.

Your water tattooed back a garden before it fades.

I won't shave anything, unless I feel like it.

But I'll wax whatever part of your body you request.

I'm not an impasse, so I won't cry when I do it.

I'll let your pain be yours.

I won't give up coffee or pistachios or my dog.

I know you wouldn't ask, but I like to be upfront about my boundaries.

I bark mine like a seagull touching my books, my mother's China, my chest, but you're fine

...