Forbidden Fruit

Forbidden Fruit

Is it because you’re forbidden fruit that I want you so much?

Exotic. A known soul from our conjoined past come to visit?

Your teasings, enticings, attributionals got my interest in spite of my hesitation

my warnings to self: “Don’t be a fool: don’t go there! Leave the apple alone.”

I did. Go there.

Unlike Aeneas, I had no one to lash me to the mast to fetter my need.

I launched. Gladly. Knowingly.

I actually thought you joined me, unloosed your bonds,

went there too, overcame your fear … I thought...

Now you’re retreating

pulling back, re-tethered to your office, your memory, doubt;

solace in your busyness

like a meditating nun who chants the hours from her cell deep in a cloister.

Even though you’ve dropped your veil, looked right at me and stroked my hand, heart

so close….so… close….

POOF!

Unlike her you’re afraid to let go, to ride the unknown ecstasy, unmuffle the harmony,

utter “My God!”

even as you try, mix it up for awhile, feint

then change the rules you’ve made or those that

came with you and that I somehow figured out.

This won’t go on forever my dear:

We know I’m not 40 anymore, but

you’re also pushing a milestone and a fork in the road;

there are but 150 psalms.

We’ve given up searching for virgins, for schedules.

The building’s on fire. The alarm’s been pulled, the ladder’s been set and awaits.

Open the window and climb out:

join me. 

The apple’s already been bitten.

Everyone’s survived and there are no second bites.