She Asks Me Casually Why Do I Love You? And What Sort Of Question Is That?

Your mind is a carousel Of recycled thoughts Cyclical relapses Up and down Between your Rejected horses You are continuously Bouncing backwards And I'm not along For the ride

If I write you You will never leave You will be with me When you are not

If I write you You will stay mine I will have you Even though I do not

Snake bites I became the viper I was a beautiful Venomous biter

Pointed piercings Below my bottom lip To match my heart Once bleeding and ripped

I miss them now They kept everyone Away

They promised If you try to steal My pleasure You must also Feel my pain

Like you might Admire the clouds And then be Angry at the rain

That if you Don't care for The predator When it hurts you

You do not Deserve To be coiled Safely in my arms

I harbor devotion So I would slither away And desert you

What are your dreams? They say What do you mean? I say

Don't you have goals? They ask Nope I laugh

How can you not? They say I guess I'm a sloth I play

You must have a job They say Certainly not I say

Contribute to society! They exclaim I have anxiety I explain

So what do you do? They question I write and I muse I tell them

But what about money? They implore I have enough to be free I retort

What makes you this way? They ask why I'm content all my days I reply

Such wasted life They dismay My world is bright I say

Now my eyes watch moths And spiders, crickets in the night, Infinity's glowing diamonds, The darkest skies alight.

I keep company in blades of grass That were browned by the sun. An eternity of passions passed, If asked, I'll say it's done.

Belong do I to the moon And what it does to all the sea. It cycles through all I have left, We're bound, the moon and me.

Seagulls swarm the sky The Adirondack chair Sits empty on the deck The boats in their docks Sway in the lapping water The sun sets over shops Dinner lights come on In the seafood restaurant At home along the Atlantic This is a seaside painting A watercolor ocean A moment caught forever In the blue of a brushstroke

A small zen garden Sits on the therapist's desk To calm both of us

You and I stand at the Shop counter We are buying a Freshly baked blueberry pie To bring over to your Brother's home towns away

You stand patiently In your thick woolen Overcoat, in the many layers Under your violet skirt That has faded to lilac

The shopkeeper counts Our shared coins And you look at me With the warmest eyes On this blistering afternoon

You look at me so innocently In this small, warm Bakery, like looking At me could melt the winter From our hats and mittens

You say thank you to the Kind man with the Graying mustache in The coziest voice I know as if it were my own

We walk down the street Down to the train, where You will sit close Beside me, and it will Not be the pie that warms us

I can write about love I can write about birds and cats And the movement of water

I can write about solitude About the comfort of silence And have it all mean the same thing

Ungraceful am I For grieving so publicly Bereaved, forgive me