"Mom, mom,"*  calls Susie
back home after school
in her new spurt of teenage energy
"I've decided:
when I grow up
I'm going to be a pop singer"

"But sweetheart," says mom,
the cool one
classy at all times
*"You know you can't do both"

Dear Mr. Poet Man,
How do you do that?
You make the most of everything
Even when there is nothing.
It confounds me so to see,
Mr. Poet Man,
The things my heart says to me in utmost secrecy
Written in your words.
How, Mr. Poet Man, do you constantly see
Beauty in all things, Even Death?
I need to know Mr. Poet Man,
How does one die beautifully?
Would I be beautiful to you then?

The potential quarrel only,
And I say only, is the thought
That 'us' would not be us
After our kisses.

We will never be just one flame,
One firebird in the distance
Pecking at mimosas.
And there's just too much flaw
If we are perfect for each other.

I could be the day of our starts,
And you, the day that begins.
I don't know.
You tend to over-think,
And often, I think of you,
Etcetera,
Vice versa.

So one by one, we secretly seek
Each other's secret;
One by one, we hate
How we hated each other
Till other things remain
In other things.

And so we think of each other
Only,
And then we kiss.
And I say:

Let love be a kiss,
For when two people kiss, it never mattered
Who stoops or reaches more.

© 2010 J.S.P