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 Puppy Love at 55
When I am wise, I’ll turn to puppy love
With generous doses of truth and innocence, almost no shame …
“Her be my gal!” Or “Me gonna marry him, so you jus’ shove!”
Sound adorable. Singing, “He is mine. I am his. Gonna get married, take his name.”

Gone the days of horse and carriage … some sensuous songs, also silent …
At this moment I am not wise, merely older, aged fifty-five;
I make amends, enjoy each tomado-love and each new accent;
Aware of so much pain, woundings, the living-but-barely-alive

So I recall how puppy love felt like fresh air, sunshine, pure
We thought the best of belle or beau
Time never existed. No bills, diapers, nothing to insure
Slobbery kisses on ears, eyes, but unashamed, secure …

When I turned a certain age; not so young and not so pure
I thought marriage was right: seemed the way to secure
Each other in love’s embrace for children, a better future …
No regrets! But I gaze at a happy marriage in old pics now.

So I say this to all poets, painters, quaint artists, saints and sinners:
Start early with puppy love, and never give up on it;
Why discuss doubling household incomes, becoming millionaires
For such talk puts dollar signs where love was beautifully reflected!

The children may yet teach us the ways of innocence
But that is the hardest job today: among adult gadgets, to remain puppies
That lick, slobber, miss the lips and kiss the eyes or chins
And yet without shame, forgetting forbidden fruit, unblinking eyes -

(Asking questions about hair, skin, color … hugs galore, even for the different)
But as to whether I advocate divorce, May I plead the Fifth Amendment?

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