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.