I fall in love easily if the man

is famous,

or good looking,

or rich.

Not only do I fall in love but I think the man

is better than me and I feel unworthy,

rough elbowed and potato lumpy,

so I want them more.

(They will never love me wanting so much).

I create imaginary lives with

men and in the life

I have created

they never seem as in love

with me as I am with them.

(I chose carefully).

Freud would have a very easy

time with me as I would lie on his couch

not having to say one word.

I wish I were Freud. I want a couch.

I am afraid it’s too late.

I may be giving up

the hunt, the waiting and wanting.

The pain, no longer bearable.

The man who will be everything

and I will be invisible. So invisible

his touch will be like a shot of novocain

mixed with curare

and my frozen body finally painless.

I lie still longing.