In love 
I am slow to see
That fact and truth 
Are not synonyms.
(1991)

In our upstairs waterbed
we read and mark the twain
and on our wrinkled sheets
probe the fathoms of the deep,
wiggle together
like pollywogs swimming
in warm fluids,
until the nightly vessel leaks
and has to be drained

               ~~~

Behind each lover
she leaves a colon
for me to discover,
new hemispheres
for me to explore:
each time I find 
the land and seas empty

               ~~~

Fidelity
does not extend 
to our everyday emergencies,
sirens and car honks
explain our life;
i give up affection
and take on pain
as a next of kin

               “`

Our quotations,
open ended,
peter out
into fruitless dash,
the social press
becomes the page
others read
as a family unit

               “`

Unfit in voice
and address,
slunk over
in ridicule,
even gentle eyes
seem cruel.
No singles group,
no one to swim to