My goodness,
how you’ve grown.
You have a keen sort
of structure now,
so unlike the daisy of
my unconscious youth.
I tried to tell you once,
about how everything
would never be the same,
about how our history
depended upon the
slapdash nature of you;
how far you must have
jumped to clear my world.

It’s not an issue, really.
I’m so proud of you
and of everything you’ve
managed to arrange—
nothing has escaped,
the whole lot gone to
a four-course meal on a
perfect love platter.
I would be anxious if
tomorrow unfolded like
it used to, unruly and loud.
This new order is an
entirely vital development,
as fruitful and welcome
as a pogrom in spring.

I wrote this for my girlfriend (or rather, to her) when she was sort of breaking my heart. Oddly enough, she found it and interpreted it as something wonderful and loving. I think I unconsciously made the message ambiguous for just such a case.