Sunday, January 25, 2009

185. TO CELEBRATE

TO CELEBRATE
Forgiving eyes - those like yours -
often see the farthest horizons :
the distant things, the soils of Mars,
rapacious outcroppings of mountaintop
rock. Craggy and elongated fissures in the
heights of the mind. They shade the world.
-
Coming from yet another place, I realized
our contingency little mattered - that
whether we ever met or not in and of itself
bore little import to the marriage of two minds.
I was a baggage handler from Hell, compared to
your grace and beauty, ease and poise.
-
It's sometimes said that composure wears the
saddest face when happy. It's also said that
arms make the man. Neither of them ever made
much sense to me : too wispy, too slight,
playing tricks with meaning and words.
For just this one moment, I would
gladly take your hands and
celebrate something,
anything.

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