The Love Song of S. Alfred Geesfrock

LET us go then, you and I
When the pale moon hangs low in darkened sky
Like a chandelier in an underground brothel;
Let us go through streets uninhabited,
A quick, soft kiss—peter cottontail rabbited.
Unbeknownst to all, save the magnolia trees,
I write poems about your knees.
How sweet they are: the kind connectors.
They bend in rhythm with mine. They click.
Alleycat glances. Noise spotted like that of flecked spurs.
Step after aimless step I think of what’s come to pass,
How we did handstands on small patches of grass.
A rollerskating man playing the viola which led you to ask:
“what the hell was that?”
feelings flammable can’t be contained in a barrel of hazmats.

In the street the cars come and go
Nothing like Michelangelo.

The yellow pollen that’s making my eyes gush,
The yellow pollen cushioning our walked hush
Sneaked its way into nostrils trying to stay open,
To steal whiffs of helix locks giving me feelings of eloping
Allergen blankets on car hoods
On everything that stood
Irritants all around, tiny in size but potent
Doesn’t nullify feelings I couldn’t give up even for lent.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow fertilizer that itches the throat
Lounging on cars like cabana boys when the boss is asleep
There will be time, there will be time
To get a dress and contemplate the moon over a boat
There will be time to save money and be cheap
Time to masticate and time to imbibe
Enough time for the work that hardens the hands
And time for you to wear white as my bride
Time for you and time for me.
Take out your contacts, kiss your eye that’s blurry
The Eagles are on at four we can make it if we hurry,
You’ll make pasta and meatballs, then we’ll take tea.

In the street the fads come and go
Nothing like Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time, and there will be blah, blah, blah.
Not to undermine T.S., but let’s go to Madagascah.
We’ll track a yet undiscovered species of primate.
He’ll hang from his prehensile tail while we stay up late
And let the campfire’s flames lick the dark around us
Flame freckles in our eyes mirror our midnight African swoons
Heard by beasts aerial and subterranean, shattering the moon.

We’ll grow old…We’ll grow old…
We shall recount each others’ unfulfilled goals.

While sea nymphs serenade us on the peninsula of Sinai
Floating without effort, tasting wine and pie.
I see them cloaked with kelp, hair sparkling with phytoplankton
Such a lovely song, we’ll stand up and clap so as to thank them.
They’ll wave by flapping their mighty fins and go down
Disappearing below the swells, in love, we’ll drown.