Is Love a Song Title

It was not only charm,

that made her wishes

become my dreams.

She liked the smell of lilacs

and I wanted to become a painter.

From the instant I asked,

if she were waiting

for the stars to forbid the night to end,

she said, 

“I sympathize with the color blue.”

Then I wanted to become a psychologist.

Is love a song title 

or something you say when 

you move from apprentice to master?

She playfully mocked the things that needed to be awakened in me.

She giggled when it was inappropriate,

whether at the movies or at a party.

A moment later, everyone smiled.

And when she turned to me, 

I noticed a cluster of light freckles on her neck.

I wanted to become a serious Shakespearean actor.

There can be a milky silhouette cameo

sometimes found in a peculiarly smelling antique shop 

that knows all your secrets just by passing it.

And you want to move on but find you are buying it. 

And when home,

you hold it

and stare

and curiously

discover it is not meant to keep.

One day while she was listening to music in the wind 

and making a list of novels to be read

I wanted to place the cameo on her dresser,

but though there was space, 

there was no room.

Decisions come,

either by

profession or discovery.

Keeping the hand over a flame 

or in a pocket.

Like looking into glass brick,

you can see form and color, 

but 

can’t judge distance or depth. 

One day 

I was in a bar with friends

who were applauding all that I despised.

I found my phone and looked at her name,

but I could never make that call.

Like great Art,

all expectations must remain illusions.

She 

became someone who others went to for answers.

Someone greatly loved.

And I,

I looked in many reference books 

to find that definition.

You can find me at bookstores, 

maybe at the theatre

or at a nightspot where I am easy to find 

because I am laughing the loudest.

But you will never find me 

found.