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Remember

I have never been a fan of
love poems.

What could be more boring
than two people who feel the same way
about each other?

It has never made much sense
to me.

But then I remember
watching the screen turn
silver, as a tomorrow
that was never spliced from the night before
came pouring through the window
onto the lap of the bitter old bed
that cracked her knuckles every time we
moved.

I remember standing tiptoe on the first step
of the stairs, so that
I could look you in the eyes until
I broke you like a horse, except
in reverse:
you were tame before hand.

After you were wild as
the sea.

I remember sitting in the truck just
a little too long,
the air between us dressed in the gold
that the setting sun had left behind;
I asked if I could kiss you and
when you said no,
I smiled because
I am not very good at
following directions.

I have never much cared for love poems,
but
I sure do like love.




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