there are certain things i heard
in childhood about pine cones of

which i can only say that i hope
they turn out to be just not true

(two distinct viewers of light on a train;

perfecting perfection and the properties therein)

i’ve awed the sweat from a crouch-hidden blushing glove

     jump off just in time to avoid being party to a beheading

but

i’ve admired most battles bested by

   positioning

      and foreseeing

that

relegate blows as unnecessary

Why do you bother me so?

Why do your unblinking eyes never look away,
From my eyes that cannot be torn from yours?

How can you always smile,
When my life is interspersed with frowns?

What is it in you,
That causes my need to erase you?

Why do I look for the wrong in you,
When these feelings arise in me?