The Looking

I did not look for her.
She traveled on horseback in my dreams, soared into my embrace, laughing.
I did not look for her.
She rode my passion away into steaming wild jungles, blurring my body with hers.
I did not look for her.
She cried for me on whirling mountain tops in the morning, dreams ended, the cards folded, and
I did not look for her.
I cried for her in dead, dead deserts.
Perhaps she looked for me.
I never saw her, I never saw her.
I sat waiting on a cold throne of my own design,
in the spider palace I made,
strings and cans and pots and pans,
oh I sat waiting,
and I did not look for her.
and this, this is the hardest to say,
that even given a second turn,
I know I would fail once again,
I know, I know,
I would not look for her.

4/6/97, 4/8/97

Jim Genzano




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