There is a fine desolation to love
like speeding down country roads without headlights
before sunrise and things are dropping away
from music light the graceful upset
combative joy the necessity of machines dark
adheres to the sweat that dried after you danced
for hours at a gay bar in Portland the shoulder
muscle you pulled the ankle you twisted - but didn't
stop dancing - no and you
can't keep from driving like
you couldn't keep from dancing as
you can't keep from that feeling even
believing it is an obsolete feeling

II.

So I'm sitting in the Paradox
Café no shit that's the name of it
I've finished my rice tofu and dill rye toast
with soy margarine and it's taking forever
to get the check which is only three dollars
anyway and there are only say
seven tables in the whole place and it's
taking a long time and I'm thinking
where's the love? I can't feel the love here
my server isn't giving me the love
I'm entitled to when I sit down
in her section part of her 15% tip
20% if I can really feel the love