The Magic Tool

My heart starts beating fast my face flushes hot sweat covers my body when I hear your name The long roads to your house — whether I arrive or not — grow short in my mind. The high wall and the heavy lock on the door are of no importance. The sun only when — only when — I take your hand rises, from between our joined hands. I think an organ has grown in my brain, has matured, like useful permanent teeth in an adult mouth. I think I have been equipped with a shining tool the very tool that drives away all the flies the very tool that for thousands of years, thousands of years, in your name, has been called love...