Let's discuss trees fallin in abandoned forests,
or more importantly,
why I was unable to say
"I love you"
last night, though
you looked at me, dog faced, and I
desperately wanted to cheer you up and what's more
to take things for granted

but there you stood,
balanced in unhappy yoga
or maybe as an angel on pin, creature
of pure light - astounding, beautiful
(shaken, agitated
put through the wringer, made
quandary metaphysical by theologians
and now me.)

I didn't perceive any of that, for
I, washing-machine minded
took you (the issue)
put you on spin cycle for a night,
came out, decided
I wanted to wear you every day, decided
I wouldn't be caught dead with you in public, decided
I prefer pure cotton relationships, 100 natural, decided
I was going to hang you in the closet for a little while

Because lord knows what you'd think
of being though of (fondly)
as clothing

You don't deserve to be
philosophy - that's where
long bearded, long winded old men
stir up minutiae-dust of fine points as
a prelude to feasting,
while in Africa children starve and you,
YOU,
you have another sleepless night.

(I want to say it.
I want to say it so bad.
But if you'd read Aristotle, you'd know
reality is separate from the mind.)