If I wanted right now I could ask, Please come
and hold me. And you would, no excuses,
if I wanted.
If I asked, you would drop the tool from your hands,
help me gather debris hacked from our jungle yard,
It is not that you lack direction, far from it.
Not that your life so depends upon mine,
as quietly you sit, strumming guitar, serenading dogs
lying sprawled in hot sun.
What it speaks to is the quality person you are,
wholly magnanimous, completely selfless,
What it means, dear purveyor of patience,
is that any would come up short
But we do not make comparisons,
as morning spins webs into evening,
weeks furrow into years and life extinguishes,
too hastily to gather meaning beyond daytime patter
and rituals of the night.