You told me once
that Virgos need to be logical;
anything we can't quantify or explain
dislodges from our minds,
falls away like a mote of dust.
We're too sane to appreciate
the emotional, the utterly bizarre.
What we can't prove, we discount.

You're not far from the truth,
though it's not that I don't believe
in what's underneath a kiss - it's that
I truly know only what is real:
the touch of skin against skin.
The quiet fact of your hand
fitted snug in the hollow of my back.
Your voice, sharp in the din of a room
crowded with familiar noises.

I wonder at the way you live, as if
everything were a link to something
bigger, more than the random blunders
of deaf hearts or aimless intellects.
I think I could learn to hear your visions
if you'll help me learn to listen.