Love

---

 

 

it is a forest fire, and it is too late to call the fire trucks.

 

it is a hallucination, a misplaced religion.

 

it is a precious, fragile, delicate object of spun glass. perhaps i should just take a hammer to it and get it over with.

 

it is a wild animal in the ribcage, sometimes scratching, other times purring.

 

it is a dangerous schizophrenic to whom you have been assigned the role of caretaker, and you will learn to live with it raving uncontrollably locked in an upstairs bedroom.

 

it will pass.

 

it will remain lodged between sternum and aorta and may cause complications unless surgically extracted.

 

it is a tall and handsome building, even if nobody will ever get to use it for anything.

 

it is a mere spasm, like a hurricane.

 

it is destiny.

 

it is a prolonged spasm, like civilization.

 

it is an egg, sit on it, keep it warm.

 

---