In Love Eleven Times

It was the easiest thing to do this morning,
to fall in love eleven times.

With a magnolia tree that presented itself over
a fence, curling its petaled fingers, beckoning
me to come close, to stroke its pale palms,
to share its sacred shade.

With a slim redhead woman who careered
down a paved hill with a face that screamed
‘take me this way or die’, she bit her bottom lip
as her wake slapped me in the face.

With the graffiti letters ‘S’ and ‘G’ that
straddled the ‘No’ in a ‘No Cycling’ sign,
that implored a far more sensuous approach
to inner city transport.

With a patch of beach pebbles where we sat
one Sunday in May, sopped with grape, heads
back with eyes to the sky, slurred
Buddy Holly songs in sunny unison.

With the husky that eluded frantic owner
to vault a fence, deliver hirsute kisses
on any face that was brave enough to turn
towards his six inch smile.

With the verve of the fifty nine year old
man whose running vest bore the imprint
of a million miles of still youthful toil,
still winning after all these years.

With the sea that wobbled serenely as its
blue belly was tickled by a capricious breeze,
breakers reached up like toddler’s hands
surrendering to unbridled mirth.

With me, with you, with existence, with this very day
that promised as much and as little as with every other.