wild and crude as oil, he can't figure
what this place is, or is not.  No comparative framework

Just blown circuits, but what other
thing can a rose garden ever be?  

When he grabs the baby
and jams her face into the roses

the pair, darting in wild spirals
rose to rose to rose, his disbelief

nearly topples them, and he howls
“Can you ******* BELIEVE IT?

He is a man
having his insides dynamited out

and dancing to
keep from having to look

His woman smiles and smokes
and strolls along behind.  
And when her smile reaches me,

not a: to keep away the bounty
kinda smile

but a: we are the ******* rose garden, smile .  And the sudden

delight comes for me on a felled swoop I did not
see coming, thank god, or I’d a done a thing
to get ready for it and that
spoils the pudding again and again

so dastard and unexpected, I make
room for it, despite myself . What else

is there to do but to long to be a thousand fathoms
simpler,

in the way that water is simpler
than lemonade, simpler even

than that:
to smoke,

if I want to.  And be happy,
if I can.  And to love a man utterly undone

by a beauty he knows
no name for.