We sit in a restaurant –
a carnival, really,
the circus, Carnegie Hall.
Dressed in our finest silk-
flannel, really,
you a lose tie, a rosebud in my hair.
I ask you what you’d like me
to know first about you
and you look into the orange pool of your soda –
an ocean, really,
are you drowning?
And I add – “I’d want you to know that
I’m not perfect –
that I’m flawed, really”
And you say
after looking up at me

(twin satellites coming home)

“I’d tell you that I love you.”

We sit still smiling –
dancing, really,
with the trees so tall
the earth so warm
so safe to tread upon.

11/25/2004

Posted on 11/25/2004
Copyright © 2024 Lisa Marie Brodsky