Saturday, September 22, 2007

SORRY, FOLKS...
MORE OF THE SAME...


I.

I eat alone again and yearn for you,
Your quips, your quirks, and even all your rules,

In short, for every thing that has to do

With what and who you are. Are we such fools?


Is love so blind we see each other’s flaws

In Technicolor detail and still fawn?

Or do we merely filter fact through jaws

Like whales collecting krill, to swim and spawn?


You say you want to spend your life with me;

My heart swells till it strains at every rib—

This has no painless end that I can see,

And I will murder you if it’s a fib.


Tell me we’ll live to love. Say it again.

I’m sure I’ll find some way to stand the pain.



II.


It’s trite and repetitious. Even so,
My longing for you makes my poor heart ache—

A band like steel surrounds it and there’s no

Relief till you are here and I can take


My refuge in your arms. My lips cry out
For yours, my skin’s aflame to feel your touch,

My nerves yearn toward you till I twist and shout,
And even I see I protest too much.

If I’d had any doubts about the move

I think this weekend lays them all to rest.

I long to be close by you and let love

Extravagantly feather some new nest.


If love is blind, its other senses grow

Exquisitely intense. God, don’t I know…

C

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