The Love Poem 2005 (Look I wrote it just for you.)

A kiss given with sleepy eyes, and soft slightly moist lips,
given when the sky is low, when fog lays on the naked back of the city
pulled over my head like a flannel sheet.
A kiss held just a half a beat longer than the peck I expected,
This is the kiss that I can return.

The faintly cross-eyed look when faces are too close, and noses almost touch,
soft, childish and slightly silly.
That is the look from which I won't avert my eyes

Tonight, I don't want expensive gifts or expansive gestures,
they'll only embarrass me, so put away the strawberries and champagne,
Silk sheets are chilly and lacy lingerie makes my skin itch.

More erotic to me is the touch of your hand on my arm, in passing, at a party.
Once you kissed my elbow, and it wasn't even hurt,
this is what moves me.

I could offer up my heart as a whole burnt offering on some pagan altar,
and take up Tantra or learn the Kama Sutra, and I would if you asked...
But really my love is more like grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup,
familiar, ordinary, and comforting.

My love is dry socks after a slushy walk, the cookie in your lunchbox.
I could perhaps be more profound, but that would only profane something
so easy and clear to me
(even saying profane makes it sound holy, and my love for you is far from holy)

I could speak of velvet skin, long wet kisses, and heated embraces
because my love is this too

My love is crochet really,
one strand of yarn with many twists that build it into something that speaks of loving care
and tender craftsmanship.

My love is like a bright leaf on the last green grass of October
waiting for you to pick it up and tuck it in your buttonhole.