One time, we drove to Winnipeg.
We argued about things.
The sun set over frozen fields;
a bird spun on its wings.
Michelle said she preferred Plato
She forcefully declared:
The essence that precedes language...
no category's spared.
I liked more Aristotle's views
a fluid take on stuff:
I felt thus that all meaning shifts,
Essences aren't enough.
We never did agree that day
our anger simmered slow
We stayed together three more years,
Before I had to go.
- four quatrains in ballad meter
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