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"oarlock" poems
What if that is true love. Being able to inherently identify with an object so closely that you begin to feel for it, or more accurately, through it. The way I often sense a single fault in a two thousand meeter sprint as if I were the hull whose gunnel flexed underneath each and every stroke. The way we trust the smooth pavement as it communicates with us seamlessly through 56 centimeter tires. I assume that it varies directly to the feeling of loving another person. But I figure it is a much more arduous task, as I cannot simply deconstruct the human anatomy like the bolts that secure my oarlock and I cannot adjust someones heart like the seat stay of my single speed in order to cope with my own discomfort.
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Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 4:04 PM UTC
hannah-alexandra
Untitled
What if that is true love. Being able to inherently identify with an object so closely that you begin to feel for it, or more accurately, through it. The way I often sense a single fault in a two thousand meeter sprint as if I were the hull whose gunnel flexed underneath each and every stroke. The way we trust the smooth pavement as it communicates with us seamlessly through 56 centimeter tires. I assume that it varies directly to the feeling of loving another person. But I figure it is a much more arduous task, as I cannot simply deconstruct the human anatomy like the bolts that secure my oarlock and I cannot adjust someones heart like the seat stay of my single speed in order to cope with my own discomfort.
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