this world she -
because i have to call it she
in order that my lust for
and occasional annoyance at,
can be properly expressed -
is a far stranger place
than we can imagine
even faced with the physical
manifestations of her oddities,
finding a face long unseen
on a walk in the snow,
finding a new possibility,
laid without asking
at your feet
even in the midst of her wonders
we cannot understand
i will spend my life trying
to know why i laugh
at the things i do
i will spend my life searching
for the reasons that all these
threads of moments
weave together in
the strange manner that they do
i will spend my life writing
bad poetry
and storing it in odd spaces
as reminders
of all these things
i cannot understand