Poem: Love poem #3

This is the third of a tranche of love poems from 1996.

Because love is like that
1996

Because love is like that
I have sometimes almost howled out to you
how much I would like to cry.

You can
and sometimes I see you with your head
bowed forward in the bath
rested on your raised knees
and it’s grand, that head of hair.

It’s not important, I know,
but scented candles
and Doris Day and foam and the promise of thick white towells
do add to it all
and I know the Four Last Songs are almost importunate
and so is that Bellini boy
whom we might spot in Umbria if we’re lucky
Probably a pickpocket on a scooter,
if we’re not,
and I know that we allow ourselves to become overwraught,
almost on purpose to wring that extra pleasure
and we should know better
— and we probably do.

Because love is like that
I have sometimes almost howled out to you
how much I would like to cry.

Though sometimes
– I’m glad to note –
you suddenly throw your head back
and you weren’t crying
but laughing.