i choose love & work

& work to raise you
(not from the dead, but the living)

& i don’t talk too much
Because talk is cheap to human ears,
which seem to be constructed out of the toughest rubber,
& nothing like the floppy grey ears
of a pachyderm, which flap gregariously & lung-like,
like the victory flags of null-nations,
or twin satellite dishes collecting every GPS coordinate
from waterholes to family destinations.

It seems that a healthy dose of beastly thirst
are integral to speaking the truth,
however, you & i, my darlings, have no thirsts;
the river that runs to all rivers runs right through our home
& all that wine we bought in old Rome
is much too much for us to keep down alone,
both of which, the river and the wine,
always seem to lead us to those uncharted places
we can’t call our own.

So, let’s not talk at all,
since we have no thirst to righteously guide our jaws,
instead, let’s choose love & work over the chatty town halls,
doing simple deeds without debt or regret
& loving each other, as if we were all eager to wed.


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