A REFUGE FOR POETS WHO WRITE IN THE LYRIC TRADITION,
WITH RHYME AND METER, WITH OR WITHOUT MUSIC
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PALM SUNDAY
Why must you come and talk to me
Explicitly and vividly
Of how you lust within your heart
For every handsome man you see?
Discretion is the better part
Of valor, it would seem to me.
You have not learned, for you are young,
To keep your peace and hold your tongue.
‘Tis not the same as to have lied
To spare the heart of anyone,
To think of how it feels inside
When fondest wishes come undone.
You say it is not meant to be,
That we should wander endlessly,
And I should look for one like you,
And you should look for one like me;
But you could search the whole world through
And never find a man like me.
So find, each week, somebody new,
And let them break your heart in two;
When you grow weary, you will know
That every word I say is true.
I hate to say “I told you so.”
I’d rather give my love to you.
Canton, New York, 2000
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