someday i figure i shall live with you
in a little pastel-pallet house by the sea,
one where the shells are full up to overflow
with the dusty tones of my dead old-lovers
and the gulls leave flowers on our doorstep
after each and every rainfall
(today, tulips: secondhand and sun-dried,
brittle as bone)

someday i figure i shall know how to love you
properly, with no regards to reservation—
someday i will learn how to swim,
and i will forget how to fear
the sound of stirring thunder—
but today the sand is cold and
the sirens tell me to watch my step
and yours too

oh,
i know we’re in it for the long haul now.