rush hour

fighting my way
through the crowd at Grand Central
I see how very many people
there are in the world. you have to
know exactly where you’re going
and be determined to brook
no delays, to make it
when there are so many other
salmon swimming against
the current.

it’s like that with love, I think.
there are a million girls out there
who are prettier
than me. there are a million boys out there
who could keep me company,
if I wanted any. but there’s no one
exactly like me, and no one
exactly like you. does it
really matter? my love will be
all-consuming or it will be
bullshit. life’s too short
for half measures.