WHAT I THINK OF WHEN I THINK OF YOU

I think of writing you a poem
That feels like a letter.
I would jot it down, carefully, in longhand
On the back of the latest Cohen tome
In explanation of my more recent plagiarisms.

I imagine I would tell you my recent revelation.
That the Garden
Is our future
Not some Semitic fever dream of the past.
That total Communion with God
In naked abandon
And harmony with all created things
Is our birthright.

That we have already tasted the apple of Everlasting Life
If we have ever loved anything,
That has ever loved anything,
That lives beyond us.
All that we lack is the Knowledge of Good and Evil
That comes with time.
Time of our own creation.
From water we have come
To water we shall return.

Then I imagine your crinkled nose and burst of
Laughter at my foolishness
And remember
That you already know all of that.