And here, once again …

And here, once again, 

we find ourselves

circling like homing

[mag-

{pie]-

bald} middle-aged

man, losing battles

with time so clearly on his hide; 

no longer

so shy of the wrinkles and

creased looks others do 

attribute in the name of

at-

trition: a curious game;

a siege of fair war.

And I love you

much more than ever I could

say, and the cost of

this love remains buried

like sand shifting 

scurrilously beneath the 

meadows

of 

wildflowered hay-

ridden moments of 

sexual abandon.

And I abandoned you once,

and there’s no denying 

a truth of such 

re-

mark and weight:

only try not to hate me too

much for this slight: 

a slight of no slightness at all.

A weight of no easy

bur-

denned,

burrowed,

hidden resilience.

And love me if you may;

and discard me if you must;

and remember me as

you feel this story demands

of rusting me-

mor[e]-

why …:

and we once kissed like this

don’t you remember?

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