Why bad things happen while some others don't,
Which we are certain should
Because we think they're good,
Is not, I venture, any of our business.
What happens happens unexplained. I won't
Pretend I never cry
Or sit for days and try
To understand, dissatisfied with Is-ness.
When It's for Real
Together we approached a silver lake
beneath a cobalt sky, and both were teeming
with placid waterfowl disposed to slake
our need for flesh -- but I was only dreaming.
I thought it would be nice if every soul
who'd passed away could swim a golden ocean
until its sacred waters made them whole
again, but that was just an idle notion.
How wonderful, if those for whom we lust
came crawling on their knees and begged to be
with us; or better yet, we earned their trust
with small talk. Either way, it's fantasy.
Embarking on a more productive tack,
I courted her with firm deliberation,
adducing reasons she should take me back —
and that took all of my imagination.