I could never be a poet
and also be in love.

Because love is an intimate thing.
Its two palms pressed together, ten fingers wrapped around
as we walk down an old dirt road
when the moon is gone and the stars are hidden
but I'm still so sure you can see me smile from one ear to the other.
My right hand so ready to cut itself off because it cannot be the left.

Love is when I wake disapointed because I'm alone
and then realize you've only rolled to the other side
so in one super slick motion that would leave you believing
I'm at least one quarter ninja
I move right next to you, slipping my arm into the
space underneath your neck
so I will never have to move to wake it back up
and as I'm lying there drifting off to sleep I force myself
back to reality
and kiss you softly on the shoulder
because there will come a time where I will go to sleep and not have just kissed you
but there isn't one reason in the world why that has to be now.

Love is when I'm trying to play, trying to think,
trying to teach, trying to write
and all that comes to mind are images of you,
your eyes, your smile, your hair,
that skirt you love to wear that i've seen a thousand times
and every time I have to say how good it looks because
blue is so absolutely your color.

I could never be a poet
and be in love
because love is
all those moments, thoughts, memories, and images
that are so endlessly intimate
and all I can do is spout them off
to a room full of strangers.