what we want out of a person
some wit a structure a good heart
like a tall stack of war books
trying to relax perched on
the rocking-chair we want love
to topple into our arms
even as we add more books
and gape out the window
at two new blooms a silky yellow
and an apricot orgasm
quietly expiring in the yard
for which I would willingly
exchange my soul
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