I hope he makes you laugh
more than I was able to,
that his sense of humor
always clicks with you.

Does he know that spot on your neck
that's your favorite to be kissed?
When it's time to go,
does he make you feel missed?

Do his words make you melt,
the way you told me mine did?
Does he tell you you're his everything,
that you're what makes his world spin?

Do you make love like we did
or do you instead simply ****?
Does he tell you that you're beautiful,
that you're his greatest stroke of luck?

I hope he's everything
that I couldn't be.
I hope he has everything,
that you no longer see in me.

Against too many writers of science fiction

Why did you lure us on like this,
Light-year on light-year, through the abyss,
Building (as though we cared for size!)
Empires that cover galaxies
If at the journey's end we find
The same old stuff we left behind,
Well-worn Tellurian stories of
Crooks, spies, conspirators, or love,
Whose setting might as well have been
The Bronx, Montmartre, or Bedinal Green?

Why should I leave this green-floored cell,
Roofed with blue air, in which we dwell,
Unless, outside its guarded gates,
Long, long desired, the Unearthly waits
Strangeness that moves us more than fear,
Beauty that stabs with tingling spear,
Or Wonder, laying on one's heart
That finger-tip at which we start
As if some thought too swift and shy
For reason's grasp had just gone by?