on the way down
one finds love
under the evening tide
in a country fair
with borrowed lions
and tiger lillies
one finds love
on horseback rides
that seem to travel
along the coast
forever
and a few miles afterwards;
kisses on champagne glasses
a maroon-colored trenchcoat
raindrops on the sidewalk
and a girl without name
one does not find love
in a landslide
or on a mantle
above ashes and gates
one finds love on a full moon
that a lover and a half dont notice
because they are face-to-face
quilted in promises
one does not find love
everywhere
as one may assume love to be
but one finds love
in the crevices
of burlesque trances
and slapping winds
like waking up in a space ship
to a marmalade of lights;
love is a shock of sound
that jump-starts your brain
and is only ever faulted
by death and poetry