3/29/18 12:30PM
If you asked the carpenters
Or the bartenders
Or the lost souls who clean toilets
What they loved
I am sure it wouldn’t be anything you can find in a basement
People don’t love things
Or people really
They love the vision in their head
The specter of reality that their brain assigns
It’s not real
But since when has that mattered
we put love in the heart
The brain pushes the blame off to the chest
And then when it crumbles
It’s a cardiac condition
And not a failing of rationality
There are a few women I have met
Whose ghostly visages have distorted
Deep in my skull
But eventually, they all go
And you’re left with an empty cranium