1
I did go out that summer day
with an old lover, into the mountains.
We had a meal by the river, then
lay together and made love
on the scratchy blanket.
2
Peonies make me think of you,
how they open, and open, unfolding
petal after petal, so lush, so brazen;
how we chased each other, room
to room, naked and ecstatic.
3
If you had asked, I would have
gone with you. I would have
left all rules behind, followed you,
led the way into that unknown
wilderness, that anarchy of desire.
4
I should have loved you. Too late
for me, you came in dignity,
in grace. Too late for me, you
offered more than I could take.
I should have loved you.
5
Some of the people I've loved
were indifferent or hateful parents;
they cheated on their spouses;
they looked in the mirror and lied.
I knew this and loved them anyway.
6
Yes, I did sneak out for a smoke.
No, I don't know what that is.
7
I don't want to be like you.
Sometimes I don't love you at all.
You are greedy and selfish.
You are not beautiful. I know this
and love you anyway.
8
I did not do my very best.
[I found this on my hard drive this morning. It's clearly mine, though I do not remember writing it. There are more of these. A different voice. Perhaps a middle-of-the-night voice?]
#poem
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