What if you belonged to another man,
were another man’s wife
and I fell in love with you anyway,
I couldn’t help myself and fell in love anyway
with your beauty and charm,
your elegance and grace,
but I couldn’t have you
because you belonged to him,
what would I do then?
What could I do then?
Would I go crazy,
loving you from afar,
pining away, pacing a rut
through my living room rug,
the thoughts of you throbbing
like heavy trains through
my brain, chewing at my heart
like jackals gnawing a wildebeest carcass,
the vision of your ethereal femininity
like diaphanous bats haunting my daydreams
and my long dark nights too,
like a ghost in Hamlet or MacBeth or Richard III?
Or would I fold my tent,
abandon my quest for you,
go off quietly into that not-so-good night?

Upon instantaneous reflection
the answer is all too clear to me –
I would have to pursue you with every ounce
of my pale pathetic being,
move mountains, conquer the heavens,
how could I do otherwise?
We have only one life and one true love
and they must come together in one place
in time like a tornado touching down
on a clear flat plain
in the lightning and the rain.