'The Truth About Love' (poem)

First you feel love; hot, adhesive.
Later you choose love; cooler,
more like gears than glue.

Choose long enough and
some day Love just becomes you
and you can just be Love.

Later, if Love doesn't want to kill you
(or even if it does)
you don't have to choose it or feel it again
any more than you have
to choose
or feel
the length of your eyes
or the color of your feet.
You are the Love and Love
(perhaps to its dismay) is you.

One other thing:
if some day you stop loving in order to save your life,
if you choke off the feelings and choose something else,
Love stays with you.

After all, it's got nowhere else to go
and you can't leave the goddamn thing
at a rest stop on the Pennsylvania Turnpike
and drive off to Pittsburgh, can you?
No.
For if you try, you'd just find the sonofabitch
waiting for you at the New Stanton rest stop
drinking coffee spiked with phenobarbitol
and complaining about all the time
Love spent alone in the rain
and how the rain has ruined Love's hair.

How would you feel about choosing that?♦


To read other poems by Lynn Hoffman, click here.
To read a response, click here.