As You Dream Of Tankers On The Couch
A wily wind arrives full-blown over the tankers --
Perhaps representatives of "hard, cold reality" --
Not that you would see that from here but
The waves pull back, as if afflicted with doubt --
nah! A trick of the mind.
Really we are just here in this living room
Studying all kinds of ignorance including
The idyllic afternoon wherein the angels
Discuss sutras until midnight and suddenly the morning light breaks,
Never saying anything like, O love
Where are we now? Because neither of us have time
For that kind of absolute bullshit, right? Or do we? Because you,
As usual, yes, you, you speed me along
In the general direction of myself, to spare me what
Thick skin the harsh winds of time have created, calming
The nerves of the rivers of love conflating
Incessantly into an ocean of caring
And yes! Yeah! I! I!
I, we, you remain saddened by eternity -- but here! Here! Here!
Which only means, or tries to mean, I love you, yeah.
But hey, you knew that all along, didn’t you? As
The wind blowing against and then from the tankers
Turns a sudden dark dappled green and heads north.