True Blue

I sometimes wonder, do human beings really,

Really want to be made happy? Really?

We say we do, we get all touchy feely

Fluffy-pinky, winking and laughing hollow

Laughter after drinks and intercourse.

Of course we do!

     (But really?)

  I don’t mean wanting

The way a man wants ice cream after dinner.

But more like hot red beef wants salt, like fire

Wants wood, like heart wants pulsing blood, like blood

Wants fire and burns for battle, broil and brawl.

Like home wants ruddy ember glow, like farm

Wants wet warm springing days of living green,

Like crops want rain, and farmer crops, and drops

Of dew coalesce on thirsty emerald leaves

For love.

                Gloomy blue gray days of moping

Hopeless funk, portend our self-important

Snobbish refusal of color.

                                             Until one day,

A rescuer! Flashing fierce St. Elmo’s fire, singing

Metallic odes on jaw wire; lightning shooting

Neon pain, a feast of feeling, knocks me

Reeling, electric blue bright sparks impart

The truth of Blue.

       A toothache is,

          at least,

real.