To Be Titled

If you ask the man with developed opinions

about love, he will tell you that the

lipstick leftover from the Prosecco and kissing

last night is actually just clarified moonlight.

If you are on the bus staring at your knees

he might ask Are you feeling okay? and

and tell you that, for a

broken heart, the remedy is not The Cure

That you can get commiseration from your

friends and your liquor and what you need

is public radio news to quiet you down,

the sound of some permanently composed,

eminently educated

reality going shhhhh. This is going to turn out

just like it turns out.

The man with developed opinions

about love knows about the gardens

in Times Square and Hell's Kitchen

that grow your favorite flowers

but thinks they smell better plucked

from the lapels of NYU students.

He doesn't even live in New York. Sometimes

his pretensions will make you want to hit him

in the teeth and sometimes it's enough to make

you tender. He does not believe bouquets

should be limited to flowers, thinks that every page

of written word is just another apocryphal Gospel

and that really, truly, he is someone you can

count on.

If you ask the man with developed opinions about love

if you're pretty, he will write you a treatise. If you ask

about the ocean he will say, “how wonderful, to live

in such a medium that makes it so we cannot deny

our connections.”

But when you ask the man with developed opinions

about love about love he will give you a sad smile as if

you're forcing his hand. There is a train he will have

to catch, an appointment to keep. He will kiss you on

the cheek and turn away. It will be a month before

you get the letter that explains that love is everything

you say as you're in the process of saying goodbye.