What if embarrassment is true?
What if embarrassment and truth are the same?
I wouldn’t be embarrassed by my poetry
If you didn’t know this already—but I think you do.
We drove around,
A middle-aged couple,
In quaint neighborhoods to see
If there was a wilderness,
Or maybe a gigantic tree,
Under which, undetected,
We could undress and kiss.
Walking on a country road, a car
Slowed down, and I,
For a moment, remembered
Especially how absurd
We had been. I imagined us
In that car; love wants
To be the one, to be the one
One loves, not loving another,
Knowing, love to be love,
Must in a pure light be confined—
Unless bold curiosity
And philosophy and freedom
Embarrass us in the other manner
As we were that other time.