Corny Kid

Why do I love her still?
Why do I look out the same window,
As the same spring grows old into the same drying summer?
The wheel has passed us.

Around the seasons I spin in my rectangular prison.
I have no real karma with this world, I guess.
I walk like a ghost or a reporter for Jesus amongst the crowds.
Arrogant and humble at once, alone, yet full of others.

I continue to feel her on this globe,
Like the sickest of stalkers
Or the deepest of lovers.
She sometimes visits my heart.
She sometimes visits my dreams
And tells me she loves me so.

We walk in a green Atlantis that is England.
I hold her hand
And that electric energy alone,
The love between us
Cascades in a dance beyond this world.

We stand holding hands beneath a basketball court,
A shiny wooden floor, high school London suburbs.
"I love you James", she implores.
"The opposition between us is great", Say I.
"I know", she admits so accepting, evenly brave,
As only a dream could be.

When we hold hands, we are not ourselves,
But instead a fusion, a strange one at that,
A mystery for our two chronic egos to dive into,
The tai chi of Yin and Yang,
Amidst romantic tragedy,
Suffering and samsara.

Redeem me to this green and awful world.
I am afraid to fall in love again,
Not for fear of rejection or loss,
How silly! How simple and beautiful that would be.
No, I am afraid I will see a love less perfect than this,
And thus betray both future and past.

I have freed her in my mind. I don't care.
But caring and loving are two different things.
Loving is an indulgence --
I indulge to suffer.
And true love is not caring for only one.