It's funny the things I've chosen to love.
Like poetry and limes. The sorrows
of young Werther and cheap red wine.
The memory of my father, which
I've built into a monument. Ideas
about musicians I hope to meet.
And dreams, those abstract
and fleeting moments. Springtime
in the desert, what's not to love
about that? Everything
from heavenly weather to wearing
tank-tops and chunky sandals
while showing off bright red
toenails, tanned thighs.
The way Roethke describes longing-
a body with the motion of soul.
If you've any comment on this poem, Lisa Zaran would be pleased to hear from you.