12.7.2008

Oh yes, I'm positive.
You know, you think to much.
What's so hard to let it be?
Let me love you, and you me.
That rhyme snuck onto my keyboard.
You're over-analytical and over-reactive,
but goofy and naive and silly.
I still love you.
Though, you need to sit back,
sip some tea, and we'll float in a canoe,
under a willow tree, in the pond that
doesn't exist, reading the books we've
read a million times before, and maybe
some Thoreau, and King, too.
The sexy non-sexual status of us
defines our boundaries and ultimately
keps us simple and new and clean,
until, if ever, we both feel dfferently.
We made a promise, and that's it.
You don't need to try so hard.
I know you love me, and you know I love you,
but as a purely metaphysical thing
you're trying in vain to show me what
cannot be shown by even the most literary
of authors or visionary of artists or intellectual
or teachers, by women, men, prodigies,
scholars, winners, losers, lovers, haters, sitters,
standers, listeners, talkers; you're trying'to
express what cannot be expressed,
so love, sweetheart, darling,
don't waste your breath on what cannot be said.
tell me you love me a million times
in a million ways, but don't ever think
either or us will understand. We won't.
You won't, I won't, they won't.
That doesn't mean it's not true.