I would sooner look on your face
Than on any view in the world
You point out a sublime landscape to me
But all I can see is the sun
Dripping from your face
Illuminating the brilliantine marvels of your mind
How do you compass this strange vagabond?
Who, with his too-quick affections,
Can make declarations of love to complete strangers
And vows of eternity to a passing cloud?
But you are not stranger to me
I have seen that face before
Though you may not recognize mine
Your honking swan laugh ignites memories
Of other planets no star-gazer has ever spied
Oh, what must I do to prick your heart?
To make it awaken to my presence
As much as your presence
Has awoken my own?
But it’s all for the best:
I am a flighty bastard
And my affection is always for
The Abominably absent
While I flinch at those
Who are too accessible and close
Ocean winds batter the gothic mansion
Of my fragile heart
And my spirit scarcely stays
Long enough in my body
For me these words to speak
Oh, it has been a Frankenstein of a week!
But if you will just let me drink up
The view of that face
Then this old man
Will need no stairlift
To ascend to the second floor