Monday, December 4, 2023

THE FIRST EVER LOVE POEM

goes something 
like this:
in our race 

to forever, 
I tend 
towards a city—

but you
place your bets 
on wending 

like a river. 
The significance 
of this is, 

as yet, 
still unclear, but 
suffice it 

to say: I persist;
you defer. 
I am 

precise, 
whereas you
are not sure. 

And my 
raison d'etre is 
to exist. But 

yours is 
to adjust—
to endure.