in grade six,
we were asked to
define love
I plagiarized Chicken Soup for the Soul
after we were force-fed its trite passages
(so it seemed to me – I hated it)
strong past life imprints
tearing present apart
of course I got caught
I lacked the language
the metaphors
– the red, red roses –
I knew I did
how could my eleven define love?
only years later,
the unchanging definition was given to me
only years later,
a pure example, to be echoed
absorbed into my roots
my Guru
– how shall I mind to be
an echo of utter purity? –
so now love is my wish for all others,
for you
to be happy
effortlessly & evermore
& quickly
The Halfwit Writer 