I've lain with her when we made love like our souls were melting between us til, on the wings of our passion we lost touch with our separateness.... And I've lain with her when it was all just an act and the actors were all the same and the names would not have mattered. I've chased her passion impatiently... often only to cling and claw at her patience... empty. She tells me I'm looking for paradise, some prize over the next hill, but she, herself, doesn't believe there's anything more and, that of what there is, we've got a lot. So now... now I sit in these empty rooms drinking wine with my poems and my doubts trying to fall asleep... trying to prove her wrong and wondering who's right. gallagher 15 may 75
— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —