Take my hand, my stupid jokes, and mix in
your unfettered passion, which hastens me,
raging and ready to kiss. Time like a thin
sea, is running to the cold ocean, free

of premonition, heavy with waiting
an extra second, to think over my
attitude and confidence. Then, kissing
and forgetting any thing or thought more.

Go with me in the black canoe. We won’t
drown, but we might fall, because the ocean—
your ocean, is not made of water. Loaned
sorrows are due soon, so cut commotion

in half and use one part to love me when
it hurts, and the other to hate me again.