Issue 154, Spring 2000
i. Spending the night
Tired of the tally of give and take,
until (worth it at last) I found your store
past the nickle and diming phases of dance.
I'd like to stay, ready to be leveled off.
Chance led us to better rates, fair exchange,
luck far off the graphs, bed by now a bond
more secure than sheets simply bespangled,
lickety split. As you slept, like a zealot,
I counted the coinage of yout eyes, your
stuffed purses rummaged by REM, and I wanted
to seize your dream, reach in, change you. A ration
of me you own, the bit indivisible.
Love, love's no law of averages, and I bet
morning is no penny to be pinched back.