I'm Major Jackson and this is the slowdown.

It's summer and you know what's happening every weekend, probably even right at this moment.

Two people are facing each other in their finest duds, holding hands and professing an enduring

promise of love before their families and friends, who are also in their finest duds.

Yes people, tis the season of weddings.

In years past I've poured libations, I even read a poem but this summer I have the privilege

and am hugely excited to officiate the nuptials of our friend and digital producer of the slowdown,

James Napoli and fiance Brita Green.

Regarding, I'll just say this, love is an unrestrained force of tenderness and light in our world.

Today's poem hilariously captures the gorgeous intertwining of life, friends and possessions

that result from two people coming together.

Stereo by Ann Waldman.

Marriage marriage is like you say everything, everything in stereo stereo, fall fall on the bed bed

at dawn dawn because you work work all night.

Night is an apartment meant to be marriage.

Marriage is an apartment and meant people come in and in because when, when you marry,

marry chances are there will be edibles, edibles to eat at tables, tables in the house.

House will be the apartment which is night, night.

There there will be a bed bed and an extra bed bed, a clean sheet sheet or tutu for guests,

guests, one extra towel, extra towel.

How will you be welcomed?

There will be drinks, drinks galore galore brought by armies of guests, guests,

...