Mark these words down in the book you hold on your lap –
There is no uncertainty like the uncertainty of desire.
It ebbs and flows like a slow moving tide,
Or it coagulates and burbles like a neon green glob.
It flits along the atmosphere with spider web clouds,
Or it creeps and hugs the bluffs like an early morning fog.
It hurtles through the forest on cat spring legs,
Or it hangs and drapes like vines in the canopy.
Does it burn deeply and ardently as in my heart
Or will it quietly flicker and dim?