Getting Serious

The tentacles of growing affection

play with ring fingers, sleeves, corners of eyes.

We convince ourselves the monster is our own invention,

exalt the beast when friendship would suffice.

Two incipient lovers lock arms in the park

and seem to be waiting for a lesson to begin;

but teachers don’t touch this stuff. Besides,

the feeling doesn’t let the didact in.

In weeks the arm of one is getting restless

and the soft sign of love prickles, annoys

so that a faith is getting questioned very gently.

The surprise is not that the beast has wreathed them

but that it bolted quite so easily

to leave them with the stickiness of choice.