Love is stupidity.
It wasn’t passion, because passion
Can make anything for a moment with anyone happen.
For a few days, it seemed to me
It was my passionate poetry.
But then I found out she had neither heart nor mind
For it. We looked at it and she was blind.
It must have been the momentary glee
That bubbled up when she laughed with me
Over something really stupid. I looked her in the eye
And something happened, but I
Have no idea what made us connect.
Love is something you never expect.
I think it was stupidity.
And a little bit, my poetry.
And more, her heart, vulnerable, because she could not see
My hunger. Or hers, for me.