five johnson

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watch out for love
(unless it is true,
and every part of you says yes including the toes),
it will wrap you up like a mummy,
and your scream will be muffled,
and none of your running will end.

love? be it man. be it woman.
it must be a wave you want to glide in on,
give your whole body to it, give your laugh to it,
give, when the gravelly sand takes you,
your tears to the water. to love another is something
like prayer and can’t be planned, you just fall
into its arms because your belief undoes your disbelief.

special person,
if I were you I’d pay no attention
to admonitions from me,
made somewhat out of your words
and somewhat out of mine.
a word-collaboration.
i do not believe all the words i have said,
except the important ones. i think of you like a young tree
with pasted-on leaves and know you’ll grow
and one day the real green thing will come.

but its a gamble.
i do not have green thumbs, you see.

let go. let go.
oh special person,
i want to break crystal glasses
in celebration,
for you,
for when your old leaves fall off
and you become magnificent.

but who has the patience
or the stomach or the gamble,
to watch a tree grow.

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