If I was in love, with being loved, breaths that covet the tang of your own standing in stadiums, feeling alone (waxing poetic, Sappho for the straight girl) I would not love you, appositive. For I do not miss hearing, (I was always too close for believing) but the rhythmic lap of my own words (I love you, appositive) Effortless, slipping from my heart like a hollow ship on an airy sea to Ithaka (you) from Ilion (me).