Tuesday, April 28, 2015

And Yet I Love It

Averring with impunity
that we are all a Unity
seems reckless in the case of you and me.
Our differences are legion: if you’re sea

then I am desert: I’m a plum
of a conundrum
and you’re quite as clear as glass.
One could bet one’s ass

our substances do not, at base, equate:
you evanesce to air; I bear the weight.
And yet throughout the solar or the lunar year,
I love it when you’re near.


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