Love in the Ruins
I was so young at fifty
When we talked about infatuation and love.
Poor girl; she didn't know what she was getting,
A mime lover
Who could flail his arms
And churn his legs
And make his face be whatever was called for
In a pantomime dance
And the answer was
I love you like a tiger
With a roar that makes the jungle mute
But I can't find your language . . .yet!
And you can't guess my pantomime.
(With apology to Walker Percy)
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