This is a pretty cool link from Rebecca Loudon’s blog. The best way to find out about your life anyway is to read poems. That’s what I think anyway.
When I went I didn’t have a particular question so cleared my mind as they said I should do. Here’s my deal – sometimes love is too late:
I was late, you were drunk, it was warm
to my hand, I would want, just
to please, you were there, but
I never
I was warm, you were late, it was drunk
to my touch, I was just
late to want, but I would
leave you never
*
from “Notes About His Hands” by Robyn Art
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