a poem: history

I am scared to be a wife
I saw a man talking to his wife at the airport
he was sitting very quietly, just watching, seemed quite peaceful,
and suddenly in a flurry of nerves his wife came to talk to him, to tell him something,
nagging and loud
and he barely looked at her or responded, nodding once or twice under the barrage of her voice
and I was sad
and I thought his whole life had led up to that moment
all his experiences colored how he responded to her,
however he saw her,
however he had loved her
or not loved her
and I blamed her
and then I blamed him
and then I blamed myself
for watching.

-a.e