His brain said
this will end badly, and meant it
for his heart. But said it with synapse.
Not knowing the heart’s language. Not knowing
each love fuses its own grammar & syntax,
scraping the excess of failed utterance. It’s been
almost four years, but he remembers enough of M
no more. Of S, he could maybe recall
the alphabet & stroke order, a word or two
like peanut. But how to construct the future,
how to amend action to express a danger of degrees—
his heart would have to learn, again, the hard way.
- The title of this poem comes from the Joe Sample/Will Jennings song of the same name. My favorite version has Lalah Hathaway singing.