Something Like a Love Poem

 
 
 
That’s what we do.
We fail to come through.
No narrated voiceover keeps score.
I know I swore you could count on
my adoration.
In shame, I lose your face,
slip away from every trace of joy
your presence bestowed.
Anonymous streets, single tables
dark cafes, jukebox blues.
I done me wrong.
Funk up that pasty song, white boy
as if you taste the craters of
my soul.
Like you, I’ve learned everything
I know
from late night movies,
lyrics on pre-dawn radio.
No one at home has time for
more than to pretend we’re all just fine.
How was I to learn more than my lines?
That promises have consequence?
 
That I am more than dreams
that don’t come true?
A quiet stone cottage
sheltered by life-bearing
pine, firs, maple, birch,
nature’s hues and cycles,
my heart relaxes.
Meet me here.
You, with your piercing mind,
languid manner,
voice like sunlit stream over
random pebbles and glass.
I promise to listen.
I promise to breathe the fruit
of your nearness.
I bargain for this chance
with all I am.
Before I ever saw my true face,
I heard you cry;
I felt the ripple of your laughter.
.
.
.
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