aayoungit’s a sun drenched
saturday morning
in early september
the year is two thousand
and fourteen
we’re not getting any younger
i possess no energy
for suffering fools or fuss
we should be taking turns
waking each other up
with our tongues
on alternating days of the week
i almost didn’t believe he was real
it was easier to think his life was just another of your fictions
how could you keep nothing of him all these years
but one spring night
fate conspired with the devil
to make me understand
a picture of him rose to my hand
the hair
eyes
nose
beard
even the way he wore a hat
unmistakable
a mirror image skew of you
and you were right
he was softer
and more beautiful than you
first born, second loved, indeed
no wonder you had gone mad
i’m sorry he died
that your heart soon followed
and for every unknowing thing
i ever said
my car drove west
but it was alone
in that intention
along a mountain road
rife with native omens
a hawk flew above
clutching a snake
another unwilling passenger
carried away
still alive
blessed
with an absolute answer
to the question of
how
it’s life would end
my pain descending
maps of the northwest territory
with points
red dot delineated
you are here
he is there
a deeper form of love
the lesson given
78 cards and i find you
my magician
you’re not supposed to be real
yet there you stand
with the highways of ohio looping
infinity above your head
a spell written by the hand
of my most unrealistic desires
conjured amidst vials of green poison
your shadow causes
the rose and lily conspirators
to fade into their own effluvium
coin, cup, wand, and sword
in your stead
wild flowers bowing in windy reverence
i hear a violin falling in love
what is to be done with you
what is to become of me
fate smiles
a gypsy wearing rags
whispering
my fortune is to participate
in this love poem