I follow you
like a paparazzi
and every now and again
try to capture your image
in words
But you resist
like an aboriginal, afraid
that I’ll seize
your soul
and damn it to
being knowable
You surprise me still
after 30 years
even though I know
exactly
how I could
make you happy
But really,
you would not
want to take
ballroom dancing lessons
with me
I would be miserable
(at least until I tried it
and passion
took over
only,
one day
soon after,
to dissipate
and we’d we left with
more uncataloged photographs
of a phase
in our lives)
12/19/07, 5 a.m.