Summertime sun plants itself

In that tear shadowing all

the paintings on the wall. You

have been staring at those paintings

of Goddesses and Gods,

They never stare back, do they?

Something nagging always

nagging like plump juicy fruit

begging to be gorged on.

The broken hearted have

learned. We try

and call them

back into striving,

like calling a bird back

into her cage.

Who? Where? What? How? When?

We all slip

eventually from

our delusions. Rushing traffic

on the other side

of a hedge is not

the ocean. no matter

how much I want it to be.

In the same way,

love is not love

until you’ve surrendered

your desire;

created the ocean

with your tears.