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BY LOVE BEGUILED
Look knocked out by the light,
A singularity into whose axis my mind spins.
I remember once, years ago,
When I landed in New York,
After living a year and half in Europe,
How the neon of America,
It appeared so awesomely garish, and bright.
Yet, when I close my eyes and picture it,
All seems pale before the radiance of your face.
That two people would meet for morning breakfast,
Look out the café's window at the steady rain,
Walk here and there along avenues of
Inviting store fronts, and before the day is over
Fall into grand attachment one for the other,
Perhaps some electromagnetic charge,
So the occasional electricity might overwhelm us.
Or perhaps it was cupid who stole
I thought I had spied him crouched near a mailbox,
At start of our walk on Main Street in Point Pleasant!
The winged child pulled from his quiver, arrows,
Their heads were dipped in love potion,
To make for a ruckus extraordinaire.
I felt that expectations were suddenly turning great.
This romance presses hard upon me.
It is a love I am compelled to profess.
To gain your confidence,
To prove my mind sound, not at loss to reason,
I couch my verse
Soften my immodest and elevated parlance.
Were I not to employ this principle of language,
One might believe my love for you be shameless.
The mood, also, provides proper relief
For the all, too-far-out attitude, the conceit,
Whose command animates my senses,
That I have come to possess a gift, as it were,
That all I say remain contingent --
Of mind still hypothetical and dependent.
I do not use the imperative, I make no demand.
I have no special outcome in mind.
I dwell in fortress called Zion,
And come from it in the Pilgrims' coat and hat.
I look in the mirror and see their collar and tie.
And, like those passengers on board the Mayflower,
I know the Lord to be my helper. I fear not.
Who among your former friends has ever said it better?
And were you to live a long and hearty life
As all actuaries predict, what future friend
And if you ask the source of this lyric
That it arrive, transcending the usual,
That when we drove in the white, Ford van and crossed
Jersey's North shore highways, while the soft brown,
Oh that magic, dream-like, living, pale, ethereal,
And somewhat golden light accented the downpours,
Whose constant unleashed falling, more
Like rain the Lord had promised Noah,
Than any explicable, temporary phenomenon of weather.
Wie es eigentlich gewesen.
That when we traveled our first day together,
Though it is months ago, and now becomes the years,
All the time which has passed, I suggest
I first surmised the engine's mounts
Were tied to point, and that we, too, were belted,
Hurled straight ahead in solemn league with Eternity.