Thursday, July 1, 2010

meditations on love, or: i didn't accidentally kill our dog last night

One day love
is mere

Someone needs something.

You sing them your song.

On another day love
is purely
a possession. 

You want something.

Someone paints
your picture. 

Graham Foust

and on a third day, maybe, love is frantically chasing your infirm and unemployed mutt around the living room, occasionally trying in vain to shove your hand in his mouth to help him yak up the rib tip he just swallowed whole, the greedy idiot. 

No comments: