Unlike the city where I grew
Love here has avenues on every side,
when one is blocked
either beyond repair
or for a kneeling curb,
we know to mount the bus and pay the fare,
there are always other rides.
We know to mount the bus and pay the fare,
Love still is waiting there. And there.
The choice of Love,
or the pot-holed falling into Love,
never meant and does not mean so now,
that choosing to go in one direction
will automatically close
the other routes we have not chosen yet.
Quite the contrary.
Unlike the city where I grew,
the more routes we choose the more there are,
and now there’re really quite a few.