Love Poem

I want to marry you.

I want to marry you but not beside some ocean,
candles dancing while endangered whales
breach in the distance, holding grudges.
I don't want a FACEBOOK wedding.
I want to marry you without paella or candles.
I want to marry you in my unintelligible fear.
I want to marry you in the grudge I hold
against the terrible fear of existence,
and maybe see if you are really William Blake
as I have hoped and feared for some time now.

I want to marry you.

I want you to be that cavern of marriage
against this terrible fear of the cavern
of inarticulate pain which some call the world.
I want poet friends to give us Wittgensteinian
tupperware in which we can seal and burp
all our deepest problems of metaphysics
for later consumption. Much later.

But why be abstract?

I don't want to marry you abstractly.
I want to marry you in some trees,
trees that should probably have ice hemorrhoids
hanging from them like memories of God.
I want to marry you and the Great Big World At Once.
I want to marry you in a graveyard while we're laughing.
Oh how could I possibly know what I want,
or that I want to marry you in any fashion
when I have not even held your bizarre hand?

Still, clearly I want to marry you.

I want to marry you on a train
that is going to wreck very soon
and with an impact that will not be survivable
for most people, except maybe those reading
a particularly engrossing novel
as the impact occurs. Only those fuckers
will survive, although they might
lose their page momentarily
and bitch about it to someone
racing past them towards the dead.

That kind of marriage.

That's all I want.

A marriage of great convenience

that comes with a spacious backyard Inferno.