At some point,
I might excuse you and conclude
that all the deceit was
a temporary mishap.
That all the madness was a fluke.
That all the fuss surfaced in a moment of
mad, manical, misrepresentation that merged with
an intense love of my
marrow.
But then again,
I might conclude,
that because the sun hangs so patiently
above us
and because the earth offers us such
generously fragrant mornings,
that it might be wiser,
that I might rather,
spend my time
in the tall grass,
amongst them.


e.campagna