How painful it is to keep riding these words, <br />Like a stupid chimpanzee trying to figure out equations <br />It can’t possibly understand, those cold avenues <br />Walked in deadly night that might somehow rise <br />Up into her sun, and the golden key stretched out, <br />Like a fingerprint and her palm, laid there, open— <br />With the right word she will allow you to kiss it, <br />The secret equation which will unlock the chests of <br />Her eyes to flutter and to look upon you her love now <br />Realized, when all the cold marble sinks and the <br />Bitter world melts filling the sea with you and her <br />To stretched on infinitely, the sun casting down <br />A net of a million points, destroying the aching need <br />To touch another human being in permanence, <br />For that is done, and the word that you found, <br />The perfect fit, has joined you to her with eyes <br />And lips that never stray.<br /><br />Robert Rorabeck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-searchers-2/
