i watched a jogger running by
amid the heat of day;
she seemed to be at perfect peace
although i couldn’t say
with any certainty, of course,
she was that way for sure —
but madness has its methods and
my lens, its aperture

i sat upon a sandy beach
and saw a couple there;
they seemed to be in deepest love
and free from hurt or care.
this was, of course, imagining,
and no doubt, premature —
but madness has its methods and
my lens, its aperture

i read the words you wrote last night
of places you have been,
and realize a few more ways
that “now” is made from “then” —
the heart that you would show to me
is not one just to tour,
but i have what i have to give.
it’s not there as a lure —

i’d love it if you trusted me,
and felt less insecure;
but madness has its methods, and
your heart, its aperture