Don't Invite Me Over for Stew If You Don't Mean It

I said in my best fake
southern accent yesterland,
which made her smile
and she insisted.

On a rainy evening,
I drove with the windows down,
because life is short
and the splashing mist felt good.

We ate her lamb
soup and watched a rap
competition show
on Netflix.

I helped her fold laundry,
and admitted
I never liked folding t-shirts
and fitted sheets.