When I was young I had a net,
caught Monarchs in it, fevers.
     lemonade smiles
swang up to the winged tops
       of those tall trees on it
ran around, topsy curvy chasing falling
     making green knees,
mom didn't  like me
       all brown and green
all hot and fevered.

It always starts the same way.
"Hello it's been a-while."
And then half-formed regrets hidden under word layers,
wrapped up to
conceal, deceive.
A smile. Goodbye, farewell.

The ache doesn't come from parting.
Au Contraire dear one.
It comes from what-ifs, might-have-beens, should-haves;
and always the knowledge of walking away,
letting a part of you go,
a whisper on a breeze,
a prayer.

Do not abandon me,
No do not leave me,
To the wilderness of my mind:
A veritable tundra, a savannah,
Cold and dry and arid.
My soul pants and thirsts for a cool tall drink of somebody.
Give me a man,
Tall, strong, beautiful,
Let him hold me in his arms and croon to me
and sing of star-song and moon dreams
under the blanket of a velvet night.
Let the warm winds come with the salty whisper of sea,
of jungle-scent and overblown jacaranda flowers,
or snatches of arctic breeze
and the high keening cry of the albatross.
Only,
Do not leave me to myself,
For the scent of jungle then fades to mud,
and the jacarandas wilt,
and the arctic spaces chill me to my bones,
And I drown in the unfathomable darkness of emotion
In the lullaby-rocking motion of the sea.
And I cannot see you,
And I cannot find you,
And the night becomes a terrible blackness
And the stars intimidate
And the moon remains impassive.
No, do not abandon me.