Love is Not an Emergency

Love is not an emergency.

More like weather, that is

inevitable, true,

impossible to hide from.

Or false spring: the stupid desire

we have for any picnic -

flies thriving in the Jell-O;

the soft bulge of rain emerging.

We knew better

of course.

Right now, the couple at the table

next to me

in the coffee shop

beloved on main street,

are crying, but look up

when their number is called.

Coffee helps - like ice cream.

So the world's cruelest trick suffocates you

like heat in the middle of summer.

I have become a wildflower

watching others suffer

in emotions, that hurt like thorns piercing flesh.

Blood and tears,

the perfect blend of hatred and regret.

But let's be honest, there's something

beautiful in living as we do.

Like a sunset smiling,

waiting for the ocean to reach up

and kiss it.

Like stars glowing in the blackest nights,

impossible to touch.

Filling eyes with white glitter and hope.

I drink because forgetting is easier.

I dream because reality hurts.

Feel what is alive.

Prosper in the truth.

We all must learn.