I am graceful enough
Not to tell you to your face
I love you. Such stickiness
Is undesirable in the mature
Adult, and curdles the milk and ears
Of passers-by if it is spoken
Over loud.

So I wander through this
Life inventing fantasies
Where the words, already said,
Have done their damndest
To divest us of clothes
And other inhibitions
And in the sweetened aftermath
We are settled over
Coffee speaking low
And listening to the wind.

Small dreams, yes…
But so large the chasm between
The rough sketch and the patent.

07/21/2009

Posted on 07/21/2009
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