Love is a lumberjack with wings,
Flying so high above your head
You fail to notice anything
Out of the ordinary,
Until it's too late
And the saw softly falls
Into the small of your back—
So much for "have a nice day."

Love is an acrobat on speed,
Unconcerned about a misstep here
Or a mishap there;
What's a limber body for, anyway?
Why not alter the routine
You practice on the balance beam?
And should you break a leg—
Take two and call me in the morning.

Love is a banker in denial,
Never willing to smile
At the almighty dollar sign
Flashing before his eyes,
Or the Traveler's Checks
He swears he can do without
When he enters no man's land—
Unaware of the legal tender.

Volume 1, Issue 1, 2006