change your name
yeah, we get along.
but what was that other thing
that plato said?
the greater good?
is there a greater good
is there
something more that
one could hope for another
than
what i hope for you?
and i'm pretty sure
your mom approves
but i wonder,
still i wonder
would you
change your name
for me?
i feel safer when i'm
with you like
all my fears or
inconsistencies or
insecurities or
inane
unfounded
rants of
self-important
idealism
are
somehow
OK
and for you i hope
i do the same
but i wonder,
still i wonder
would you
change your name
for me?
would you sacrifice that
bubbling, timid,
robin's egg,
or is it navy, or
sky, since,
i've heard that's
from where it gets
that brilliant aspect-
blue,
would you sacrifice
the slow-moving beauty,
the gurgling,
forest-dwelling,
that same-syllablled, but
infinitely more principled,
meaning-filled,
altogether you-defining,
surname, bestowed with
infinite love
from those who begat you?
would you
change your name
for me?
and i'm not really asking,
i'm much more romantic than that.
i'm solely musing,
confident that
i could do much,
much, much
worse;
that if there were anyone
less deserving,
i wouldn't know where or how to find them,
that i've no
trepidation about one day
deigning to ask the question.
just musing,
contemplating,
wondering not
whether you'd like to
hang out
again,
or forever, but simply
whether you'd ever
find me worthy,
whether you'd be willing
to lose the self that
you'd been for
twenty-odd-years,
whether you'd
be willing to
quite literally
change
as a result of knowing me?
would you,
i wonder,
yet, i wonder
would you change
your name
for me?
an autumn walk in boston
i've never been, but
i dream; i insist:
"heart, take heart.
only sit tight two,
or twelve years' time."
i lay silent, sedate, snug-
asleep-
and walk.
along a woody,
leaf-strewn footpath,
fireworks above-
mother's, mind you-
and gently
hold
your
hand
ambling slowly,
always,
so slowly,
with
limitless leisure,
because with
her cheerfully alacritous,
annual,
not aural-
and yet musical-
accompaniment-
and yours-
i'm
just
happy.
and happiness
like gold, is fleeting-
and its warmth
is
golden,
delicious,
a sour, succulent orange,
a bright candy red,
or a brilliant green
but whichever way, won't stay for long
especially in boston.
or at least
that's what i dream-
i've never been.