THE COMPARISON STUDY
How else could she say it with
appropriate fuego?
Until their passions met,
she’d never
loved and laughed so hard,
so soft, or felt so adored and amused.
But, yesterday he asked her:
"Do you love raisins as much as I
do?"
That sent her into an existential
tailspin,
wondering again if she could ever again
know another man’s love without
comparing it
to what she’d put into
and taken out of
her affairs with others.
She must allow it instead to float free,
without judgment.
The quiet and gentle, the passionate and
sensual,
the tough and gnarly, the fun and
exuberant.
That’s how she answered him.
But, today he hit her with another one:
“Is it hot in here, or is it me?”
“It’s you,” she immediately replied,
sick of all his endless introspection,
and it wasn’t well-received.
Not the answer he’d wanted.
He’d wanted a flopsweat camaraderie.
She’ll now put it to her readers:
“Do you love raisins as much as I do?”
She can only hope you love poems
ending with grapes.
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