love was hard kisses
(on my pillow)
and sweaty palms
full of spit
and I thought I would love her al-
ways (whoever she would be)
because love (I thought)
stretched forever
into the farm sunsets
When I was young
love was our smiles
between warm summer nights
thighs,
the spring
spun silk of budding breasts,
and my desires
fluttering like butterfly wings,
But I grew up
(and that took forty years)
and I learned
(slowly and many tears
inside
because a man does not cry)
I learned
love
is the recognition
of Self
my/your
Self
through the gift of one
another
Perpetual
l
e
a
p
i
n
g
to your/my
Self
therefore I am
you are loved
Love is my mirror
in which
I see
You
and (ME)
(!)
who never lived
until there was
a You
and (ME)
(!)
Love is not
I need you
but
You give me
Loving is
wanting
desiring
needing
the other
to be him/her/their
Self
to know that --
The world is our toy
our play
thing
a bubble
a game
and he/she/they
Soar
to him/her/their
Self
for love
is the beginning
from which
all else
proceeds
