SONG OF THE ANTI-SISYPHUS
I want to start a snowball fight with you, late at night
in the supermarket parking lot. I want you
to do your worst. I want to put the groceries in the car first
because it’s going to get nasty. Because I was reading today
in the science section of the paper that passionate love
lasts only a year, maybe two, if you’re lucky.
Because I want to be extra, extra lucky. Because the article
apologized specifically to poets—sorry, you hopeless
saps—as though we automatically believe in love more
than anyone else (more than kindergarten teachers, long-haired
carpenters) & have been pushing this Non-Truth
on everyone. Because who knows what will happen,
but I want to, baby, want to believe it’s always possible
to love bigger & madder, even after two, three, four years,
four decades. I want a love as dirty as a snowball fight
in the sludge, under grimy yellow lights. I want this winter
inside my lungs. Inside my brain & dream. I want to eat
the unplowed street & the fog that’s been erasing
evergreens. I want to eat the fog only to discover
it’s some giant’s lost silver blanket. I want to
find the giant & return to him his treasure.
I want the journey to be long. & strange, like a map
drawn in snow by our shadows shivering. I want to shiver
against you, into you. I want the sound
of your teeth. I want the sound of the wind. I want to be
like the kids with their plastic sleds, gliding down,
all the way down the hill, then trudging
their sleds & snowsuited bodies all the way
back to the top. I want to be how they do this, for hours,
till sunset, till some sensible someone has
to come drag them away from the snow, the slope,
the 3 . . . 2 . . . 1!
of joy. I want to be the Anti-Sisyphus, in love
with repetition, in love, in love. Foolish repetition,
wise repetition. I want more hours, I want insomnia, I want
to replace the clock tick with tambourines. I want to growl,
moan, whisper, grunt, hum, & howl your name.
I want again & again your little dance, little booty shake
in big snow boots, as I sing your name.