I stood outside love’s doorAfraid of what I’d findA howling rainy voidA thousand clownsThe “It” from the phrase“It’s raining”—The rain soundsLike a bunch of eyelashesRunning around.I tell tiny jokes to myselfIn front of love’s door—I’m afraid I will findNo one there, an empty café—Well that actuallySounds nice.I’d sit down and haveA cappuccino and one cigaretteAnd read those ancientNewspapers back to back.I stand outside love’s doorPraying forA soft landscapeTo walk into,Worn marble staircaseSome kind words, that’s all.Once I held love as a thingAnd then it cameAlive in my hands, itBit, flowed like water...