sometimes I wonder if I fell in love with your shadow,
that bashful sweetheart that refuses to see
how I could be so in love,
while the real you is running away from
me -- the borderline creeper
who's crossed too many lines to stand a chance.
I'm no good at this guessing game --
I spill all my secret codes in
sheets, stacks of sheets
that I push off the stairwell into rush hour crowds
to be trampled.
I'd rather meet their soles
then face the faceless crowd
-- bereft,
I give myself freely
I have nothing left but this extension of my
overarticulate heart.
do I hide behind words like you hide behind silence?
maybe, but I'm seeking to be sought.
can't you see me half-hidden behind this too-thin tree?
stop counting. I'm right here.
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