Strangers on a Napkin

Strangers on a napkin

lie together

in perfect paper peace

in love with the moment,

not to think of tomorrow's chili stains

they escaped the picnic

by the breath of a summer breeze

and blew silently about the park

in wistful contentment

lovers of a wasps lost fantasy

or the bark of a birch tree

or the memory of a patty field

a frightening exchange of glances

a flush of the cheeks means we've

been looking at each other

we toss and spin on the whispering wind

and lose ourselves in nature's party

but when we stick on a tree

there is a chance that we might

have to find each other

and what then?

Part Two:  The Revelation

Sitting numbly about the firelight

gazing towards distant stars

or rolling my eyes back into my head

to ponder the mystery of you

in a room full of friends,

I drift off for a moment

to think of a stranger

Looking at an ad for cigarettes,

I find ultimate truth

one type will see the picture

and move on to the 

next page

and the other will spend the time

to hear the conversation held there

And here we have the inevitable warning

but I would replace the words "cigarette smoking"

with "love"

Part Three:  Another Question

What motivates?

What motivates the Christians to believe they have a god

other than themselves?

What motivates the "sinner" to be born again?

And what motivates me to seek a vein

of truth?

I cannot see for the blindness of my yearning

I cannot breathe for to put out the pilot light

Where am I here?

Who is it I want?

Why do I hold myself back from

the most obvious things?

And you, and you, and you

will be in my heart forever

Part Four:  Last Chances

And why a love poem?

why, when I have yet to see love straight on?

Why, when I know that the magic

will be gone with the poem?

Because I know the the poem

will be gone with the magic,

perhaps

It is good, this effort to love another

is good what matters?

Oh look!  A shadow of a man in the distance!

and I wonder more of him than

of the foreground?

What does he read?

What does he do?

again, I think of you,

imbedded forever

in a place of perfect paper piece.

- July 11, 1984

[written on a napkin from Steak N' Shake]