I sense something
pending
that I don’t want
to talk about
because I am afraid
that it will jinx
the everyday magic
that doesn’t happen
all the time
in fact you can
feel it like
the hum of
electricity
in the air when
star-crossed lovers
meet by chance
in places like
the butcher’s counter
where one does not
expect romance
but there with the ham
and the cheese
she sneezes
and he says
‘bless you’
and this prepares
them to share
future bacteria
and the socially
acceptable
hysteria…
of togetherness
and I know this
is soon coming to
infect me
and I will again
feel lovable
and hopefully
hopelessly
incurable
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