Metafarcical

At our first kiss,
Love miraged
within the dessert
of my inner landscape.

I teased you
with jasmine,
bad language,
and a winter bed.

You tempted me
with unclosing eyes,
strange food,
and legs like young rubber bands.

Together we crossed
the Valley of Indecision,
swam in the River of Passion,
exhausted;
threw ourselves
on fertile banks
of Imagination,
before we could be swept out
to the Sea of Despair.

Our love was like the last cycle
on a Merry-go-round,
no matter how hard
we spurred those horses
they left us where they would,
high or low,
laughing at us,
as we reached
for another brass ring.