The other day,
I was walking down
the street.
I started thinking about
pork pie hats, and how I
would love to have one.
I went to the
Salvation Army store and
found a dark brown one.
I put it on, and walked out;
smooth as a puppy's belly,
slick as a butterfly's wings.
I loved that hat, I lost
it a couple of days later.
I lose everything I love:
My kids, my clothes, my jaded angel.
I've lost houses, wives, money, and cars.
What is it about love and loss that
stalk me like a hound dog?

I've lost hope and heart, and
even my mind at times.
I've lost friends galore.
My parents and two brothers are
gone.  I know if I love
something or someone, I will
lose it.
And those losses leave scars on
my soul that never goes away.
So the answer seems simple:
Love less,
yet, that is impossible with
this cursed poet's heart.