Brautigan’s Poetry

Spending my evening
Wrapped up in tea
And Brautigan’s poetry.
His words quietly and nervously
Reveal the very heart
Of love and of human existence;
Like an archaeologist
Dusts away the dirt
From an ancient artefact
With a fine brush.
If only you knew
That you’re the one
I want to tell everything to.
I wonder if you’ll ever know that
Or if it will always
Be like this.
All I want to do
Is tell you about what I’ve read tonight.
My wants are uncomplicated,
But ever present