Friday, May 24, 2013

Untitled Poem

You wanted divinity
I was laughingly crude.

You wanted oblique mystery
I was openly yours.

You wanted feverish dysentry
I was body temperature cool.

You wanted polished refined sweetness
I was half raw cane sugar, half-tart.

You wanted a glass of Pinot
I was a luke-warm Tipperary apple juice.

Whatever else they may say of love, 
It does not bother with check-lists.

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