The lover waits impatiently
for what love will reveal.
A prestidigitator, it
conspires to conceal.
The author of his own deceit,
he writes while in his passion
a fictional accounting that
can brook no close inspection.
Averting eyes, he graciously
accepts what is not offered
and disregards just what makes up
his lover’s psyche sausage.
Assisted by its audience,
love focuses attention
on objects of no consequence
- a competent magician.
Hair and lips and sweet incense
eddy in the mind
but these belong to youth and will
someday be left behind.
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