If I was a fool,
I would believe that I was born to
Pull you from this cement cage
That encases you into perpetual stillness:
Static and untouched and yet so electric
That it pulls me to you with lightning-struck eyes,
As if it were fate,
(or destiny),
Or any of those other words that fools love to say
But who am I to decide if I am a fool
Or not?
It is a fool who presumes his own intelligence
And a fool who calls himself a fool
And it is true:
I would be a fool to love you
And yet I dig my nails into the concrete nonetheless
Clawing, pulling you out of this wall that stretches
East and west.
You fall onto me
In a cloud of grey dust, and your arms pull me up
And yet I’m not sure you’re real,
For shards of your wall-house linger on your skin,
Covering your face and hiding you from me
And still you touch and pull at me,
As if you were trying to pull me from a wall of my own.
Darling, with your concrete eyes,
How could the rest of your body be so alive?
Alive enough to run from me
After you were through with me
And you ran,
And you ran,
And I was a fool.