I read a Thousand love sonnets,
Oh what grandoise thoughts I had of
You Pablo,
Somehow sitting beside an open fire,
Highly romanticised visions
Running through you in
Crystalline clarity of the human heart.
       Oh what wonderous mythic thoughts
I had until I went grocery shopping.
I see you Pablo Neruda in your
Naked truth,
A sun setting fatigue over you,
You scrawling about a list of food,
At first which I thought was the Poem.
     But this could not be the Poem,
Words cannot fluster a man like you,
     I followed for a while ,first in awe,
Then in a sad curiousity.
  What happend to this man
And the allusions of such brilliant
Women in white dresses that must
Dance through his corridors?
      He walks a tired walk,
Slowly approaching another figure.
And there was the plain truth
Of a plain man with the adventurous heart.
    " Did you get the pork chops?"
She asks him in a worn down voice.
    "Yes dear"

And in this stroke of reality
Where dreams come to swift the soul
Away into the portico on some purple
Glazed sunlit dusk,
    Or the woman seeking the warmth
From the benighted snow next to
A porcelain fire which seemingly
Births tiny star like embers that light
The eyes of the lovers,
    I realise that it is the escape that is poetry,
The words are groanings of the deepest
Nature of the person,
    And the truth is not necessary,
For the poem sets us free from what
We all seem to already know.