lately the phrase “lonely for a woman” flits around

there in my uncaring-of-correctness skull

but like a hummingbird this morning it is hovering

demanding to be seen and acknowledged

well ok “lonely for a woman” i see you i acknowledge you

and it is embarrassing to acknowledge your taunting truth

sure you are true but you are not enough

there are a thousand flavors of loneliness and you imply lust alone

you say nothing for loneliness of moments

loneliness for those firsts that amp the mundane into the spectacular

first look not just into a pair of eyes but into the beyond of them

first deeper-meaning laughter first high-voltage touch

and yes first intimacy first joining

and here comes another hummingbird thought

side by side with “lonely for a woman”

this one is “unlucky in love again and again”

the beat of its hovering wings makes an irritating noise

now there’s a whole flock of them

“desperate, aren’t we?” “you’re not getting any younger” “what did you expect?”

and there is the background hissy rasp of many more

i dismiss the birds i cast them out

i have known love and i will know it again

and though it is instructive to be in the desert of ‘lonely for . . .’

it is dangerous to seek relief instead of rightness

i create a hummingbird

this one says “any day now”

that’s all i need on any given day