not anyone who says, “i’m going to be careful and smart in matters of love,”
who says, “i’m going to choose slowly,”
but only those lovers who didn’t choose
but were, as it were, chosen
by something invisible … not anyone who says
you will eat,
you will laugh at stupid things,
you will stay up all night just to see what it feels like,
you will fall painfully in love,
you will have babies of your own,
you will doubt and regret and yearn and keep a secret.
you will get old and decrepit,
and you will die,
exhausted from all that living.
everyone now and again wonders about those questions that have no ready answers: first cause, god’s existence,
what happens when the curtain goes
down and nothing stops it, not kissing,
not going to the mall, not the super
“wild roses,” i said to them one morning.
“do you have the answers? and if you do, would you tell me?”
the roses laughed softly. “forgive us,”
they said. “but as you can see, we are just now entirely busy being roses.”