Love isn’t perfect 
I don’t think 
it was ever
meant to be
we made up
that little fairytale 
in the sandbox 
at the prom
or maybe when 
we played house 
love isn’t answers
either but questions 
like is he 
or am I 
and if we
are how long 
if I’ve learned 
anything that love 
is it’s that 
it’s a paradox 
and part conundrum 
attempted only by 
those who dare

From little 
to lots
and loss
from once 
to new
to next
and now 
from tempest
and tempting 
to calm
and careful 
so goes 
the boy
to man
and beyond 

I too
get tired
of the 
cackle crackle
and spit
of roasting 
of being
turned over 
and over 
at first 
ignored then 
paid attention 
to obsession 
where were
you when 
I was 
a calf
or a
cow quietly
munching grass 
now that 
I’m your
next meal
I’m important 
and you 
are impressed 

Do becomes be
a little drum
a march towards 
joy and happiness 
standards and routines 
a rote rowing 
oars in water 
taking one farther 
across languid lakes 
it’s not about 
reaching the shore 
just about being 
ones quiet do

Do not 
follow me 
for I
have no 
idea where
I’m going 
instead let 
us follow 
you and 
let’s both 
see where
we’ll go