From the book: "Calligrapher"

"Though most of us somehow remember that bullets and car crashes kill in real life,we take the romance myth to heart, we forget to suspend our disbelief. But the disappearing truth is that a man can like a woman in a certain kind of way - on a certain afternoon, perhaps , or in the evening over dinner every once in awhile. And a woman can like a man the same: now and then, from time to time, in some specific setting, in some specific role. There don't have to be promises beyond eternity or improbable undertakings of a responsibility beyond the moment - just the powerful then and there of a FRIENDSHIP TACITLY ATTENDED BY DESIRE. And it may not be quite love and it may not be forever, but the two of them still like each other and it still counts..."


And my poetic take on this goes something like...

It's the clarity that kills
within measures of how it feels
inside truths we don't define
in conversations over wine

You'll soon bring out that foie gras
those wine glasses in the rack
on better occassions that might
Perhaps better than this night

Now I'm in chills looking at you
No reasons to see me beyond this view
No perfect moment as of now
Plain old friendship with no vow

Lead me right, lead me not
dance these rhythms in the dark
What I feel you'll never know
Never now, never show

Better a lie in disgust
than empty promises in the dust
Let it happen as if it may
Let me fall, if you can't stay