The Joy of Invoice

Bless this invoice so proper and formal, far more than a bottom line.

Bless that within him which breathes and self-generates. 

Observe his spacing and serif strokes.  

Feel obligated and in thrall.

Think for a moment you're bad for owing. 

By this invoice shall ye wed then take good care of the kids.

Lend him credence; he brings more than any heartfelt plea for love.

Because this invoice is not beset by the refracted pain of our communing.

Free from evasion and irony.

Free from the morass of frailty by which he was conceived.

Once we were soft and silly and juvenile, and flawed, but we end up unassailably invoiced. 

We praise the quid pro quo; we marked it down and reached accord. 

Thankfully.

So bless him, because he cements the future we sketched out.  

Done and dusted is life, so let's haunt the hallways of limited possibility. 

Fear this invoice, but not too much.

Without him is freedom, horrible boundless freedom.

Pay him off then breathe easy.

Then send one out yourself.