she wanted to know what love was
that you cd. fall in.
i said a pit, and hope someone falls in w/ you.
she imagined, she said, a door
the one one you wd. love having an open
door which you fall in - only,
she laughed, i fall and hit something, a wall.
her scribbles darken and fill a thick bar,
the brick wall i suppose that brings out
those bruises around her eyes.
you know it is love when it hurts i said
and wished i cd. say more about the
crazy buzzing ache we call love --- i guess
i'm in love just about all the time, which
was something i cd. say and laugh ---
too true to be important.
she wanted a way to say love is a hurt
and doesn't even really happen.
i wanted to say how well i knew what she
meant. i wd. have said, only, well,
love is a hurt and a pit --- i've fallen in
too deep to to believe anyone up there can
hear me. love is a door that has
always been locked, i hardly bother to
see if it might be open this time.
A poem for Cathy Coffee, who worked at Downtown Grounds. it is in her handwriting as a had copied out a version for her , she then hand wrote a version when i asked (a second time) for a copy of the poem. I don't know your real last name, Cathe Coffee, but we loves it forever Bagginssss…
