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.