I wrote this in a mental hospital on 5/21/07.

Ancient romance
not like a mistress on the other side of town
3 letters a day from a Prince
to woo a tryst
the third ring of the heart
where the rung up is the same down
and the wife is in distress
in states of undress
trying to find the perfect dress
to find his eyes on her again
for the sake of the kids

but the postman rings more than twice
as in France the mail was sent thrice a day
so the postman knew what you were up to
and knew the milkman had his role in making you
for we come from not this
intercourse
or the one before
we come from a long while back
before you could smell humans
a long ways off
when pure hearts ruled minds
and
the one who made me
didn't call her
for there was no phone
couldn't write her

I am here
and you are there
and since we have met
you and I cannot forget
our next date
or where she or I may appear
to break furniture
or thicken the air
with loose locks
and the great big pang
that delivered births
messengers like storks
and artisans free styling like freaks
not knowing where this life force
that moves thru and leaks

It uses us, gives rise to us
and ultimately
demands the best from us
and as art of love and lust
and Milkman's darts
and Mistress's heat
it is passion that rules these lands
and rules our magic wands.
Keeping you in mind.