Do you really want to hurt me?
Of course you do.
Love needs to be mean.
What else is new?
Love needs to drift into other feelings,
The kindly pastor have other dealings
Than with the passionate son.
When the musician pauses, and the music
Has to steal away,
Into a theme of slower tempo which the wood winds play,
You will know why—when the music’s slow movement is done—
The opening having been the best harmony you’ve heard today,
Making statement after statement in the key of E,
A key which now has you thinking differently,
The forest, though old and green, will never quite be the same.
She would bring you here and call you by your name.
This is better than people: a solitary seat in mid-spring with the hazy sun
Spread out above you, and here she is, she is the only one,
Who lives for you somewhat tenderly and indifferently.
Legs pressed together, she whispers, “Do you really want to hurt me?”
Before she gets up to go.
It is never necessary to be on time, you know.