For Paul Grillo

I only have to open up my treasure trove of love letters and impeccable collage work, invitations as invocations to torrid travels of heart and mind, to know what love is.

You chased me good. Galloping like a centaur. All beast, all man. You left me breathless, all to convince me I wasn’t too naive, for the big-ness of you.

On that park bench, smothering my face with kisses, pipe scented kisses, mustachioed brushed kisses… a collection of sensations to glue together for all time.

The years that have gone by — 32 if I’m counting; oh so sorry I didn’t know that when you left, that you were gone for good. Gone for The Good. Gone to the great Wild Wood.

Oh, you are so well thought of dear, dear, dear, dear man.

I will always have this dint on my heart where you first plowed into me.