Let it be sewn in the fabric of our being: love is freedom.
I love all those who are watching the game and those who are not.
I love all those in the marches and those who forgot.
I love all the whims of a whippoorwill.
I love you as ancient DNA swims in your soul.
I love you in the winter of my discontent.
I love you in the summer of my happiness.
I love you in the morning and in the spring time.
I love you in the night and in the afternoon.
I love you when you play your drums.
I love you when the song has been sung.
I dance in love.
I plead in love.
I swim in love.
I write in love.
And, I dream in love.
Mostly, I get naked for love, but have me anyway.
They say I love too much, but I don’t think that is true.
I could love more if there were more of me.
Only, I am afraid I can only handle just one of me.
So, I struggle to break free.
I am enamored enough to go ahead and reserve my order of potatoes.
I have caught a mesmerizing fish.
“Indeed,” he seems to say to me.
I have no shame.
I accost the nomenclature to no end.
I am always delightful in a samba.
I am quixotic in Latin jazz.
I take care not to infringe on other people’s property.
But they always seem to be an abundance of self-righteous Pharisees.
I offer them cake, but they won't have it.