It wasn’t love that brought me home to you,
It was something . . .
Something more like flashes of a movie
In a television advertisement,
Keeping our attention-for-each-other-deficit
In tact. I thought love
Was more like winning a championship,
Hoisting a gold trophy over your head,
And proclaiming to everyone, “Look here!
Look at what I have done!”
How silly we can be when we think
We understand a thing,
Out of misunderstanding, called love.
I was standing in an empty room
Hailing you queen of every green corner
In which I had wanted to place
A token, a heart, a broken down
Lugubrious definition of something
Like me in the way I brush my teeth maybe,
Or the way I throw my hat in the air
At the turn of a season,
But I found myself lacking
The quickest distance between such points.
At least I was lacking it well.