Excuse

I was looking for any type of excuse,
a large glass case a hundred items, each an opportunity
you were so quiet, not shy, not even taciturn, truly gentle
it threw me off my game, sly fox that I’ve become, silver streaked
I could find no words, me the man of a gazillion words, not a solitary sigh
I floundered like a stupid fish caught by a small hook, cursing my own
garrulousness that ended with nothing said, no protestation of my awe
at finding you there like an angel at lake’s edge, here in this stain of a town
you tended the store, listened to customers, took my money, wrapped up
the gift I was to give to another woman but bought because it was yours,
in giving I would receive you, the heart of you in delicate bronze.

I tried to find a workable excuse.

Something not too embarrassing if you axed my heart with rejection.

Just one or two, even dumb excuses to see you again.

You are a silky web
dangerously alluring, enticing, seductively comforting to my heart.
Yet only I, heartfelt, treasure the fierce thrust of your demure presence.
Only I treasure how your eyes never faded from my memory despite centuries of lonely wandering,
eons of pained desire, through the ages just a handful of other women,
each and all just a bookmark as I waited to sense your eyes upon me,
so it came, horse and buggy town, fated to walk into your store,
oh, if only I could kiss you forever, from toenail to hair-fall caressed upon my face,
how little you know of the howling anguish of the ages in between,
damned to accept that I am December in your April.
Here once again I cried so that you could not hear,
Bury me! Bury me within your heart!