So,
I thought,
I’ll
be out of love?
or
nearly?
I
have none in the bank?
None
to be had at the store?
Love
has run out.
I
always thought it was plentiful,
that
I could dip my hand in the creek,
come
up with enough for a mouthful.
That
it poured off mountains,
city
streets were awash in it.
Every
subway train, cross-town bus
contained
it like the pool man’s
tanker
truck full of love
coming
to fill my pool.
I
will stand here, chin up,
mouth
open and wait
for
replenishing.
©2020
Muriel Thumm
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