Take from me my
Grant to me
Well, no, we are not Jews, but we
Do know the same God—four letters,
Mr. Quattro, Quad Fourier, Four.
Yeah—way, way out there—
We are the Thirteenth Tribe and where
We belong is anywhere but Israel.
The sun never sets on Thirteenth soil;
The house of the rising sun rests upon our midnight dawn.
Bullet of absolute heat and prayer cold and blue and
Absolute zero—Kelvin, Kevin, Calvin, Calvary
Cross, Compact Rainbow, Double Blue
Racked Red like pool table cues
And green verdant velvet—if you please—
Rolling, roiling, bowling battle:
Love is a—
Love is, was and forever shall be…
Cherry cheek in snow red:
My lithe and delicate man, my
Ulysses—Daniel—I still stand here,
I still await our
“I love you”—of course I said that to him, many times; we were married, after all. But when he felt so trapped—in his mid-40s, in his systems engineering job, in the mortgage, and as the adopted son of an infertile husband-and-wife pair of doctors—when he felt so wounded-animal trapped that excising his love of eighteen years somehow finally seemed like how the could at least breathe again, I forgot to remind him of how he fell in love with how I’m both more cynical and more sincere than him (and it isn’t even a contradiction for me). I should have told him plain that I would always still be in love with him, told him back then just before he made me move out; I should have made clear that however he had changed how he felt about how he felt, I would be pained and in love still, now and ever since that first day February, 2001—that Krispy Kreme doughnut shop and trolley-ride downtown first date. I should have reminded him that no matter what, I’d be in love with him my whole life, regardless.
“I may be mad, I may be blind, I may be viciously unkind—but I can still read what you’re thinking.”