One More Time, Maybe

It’s so no law of nature that your nights
should be all sweetness and light, dreams delightful,
when you’re in love.
Let me tell you, those nights can be
the most turbulent of your life.

Sometimes you’re on an island, love circling it like a shark.
There are no trees, not even a single cartoon palm,
no way to hide from the metal beating sun.
You burn all day, can’t sleep at night, the torture
of lying down, rendered insomniac by razor sand
grains grating your roasted skin.

And, yes, sometimes it’s starts sweet, but then
it ripens into something doomed to fall, bruise, rot to rat food.
Your fault, hers, whatevers.
Ex-boyfriends edging back into the picture,
soon-to-be divorcees reconciling with spouses,
the truism true that relationships built on physical attraction can crumble,
the problem of unsolvable boredom,
another woman edging into the picture.

All failures bad chance, ignorance, dumb lust, foolish stupidity,
some nasty cocktail brewed to knock you on your ass.

But on the bright side, I have to say,
each piece of paradise lost may be a prelude,
if you can get up off the mat,
perhaps to a love of sweet dreams and soft nights,
warm arms that hold you tight forever,
if you can get up off the mat.

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