Poetry Is Not For Love

I am more concerned
With the cycle of things
The nothing
The spiders
The strings holding
Us together
And shredding our hearts

I accept
The temporary nature
Of objects
Friends and feelings

I understand
The relationship between
Women licking stamps
In Tibet
And snow collecting
On my windshield

I know all of this
And still
I wait for her
To walk through the door
Of this dimly lit bar
Casting one smile
In my direction