Cold roast chicken
and cheap blackberry wine
for dinner on Tuesdays
all the time.

Of course we knew
Wizard, Waldo, Scroll
On every page,
But we still continued
To look for him.
Hoping he had moved,
Or perhaps searching for
The only constant in our lives.

Do you think we'll remember
this when we're old?
Will we know we were naive,
or just regret the loss
of it all?

The white bits of dust
that cling to each of the keys
remind me of the night it snowed
and no one saw but you and me.

These days
I’ve got two left feet.
And my mind’s stumbling,
Lips stuttering,
Heart fluttering,
Every time we meet
With your becoming ways.

It’s said good art
Never comes
From happiness.
So what
Does that make you?
My muse?

Why did we turn
Into scientists?
We were going to be
Lovers and painters,
Priests and picture-book makers,
Boat rowers,
Movie goers,
Avid,
Malleable,
Free.