The Only Meaning Left Out Of It.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

i am glad that peter
fell in love
and did not get what
he wanted
and so back to chicago
moving on to vancouver
he nourishes his wound
with the coldness of
winter.

did he not say that
love is still love
whatever it takes?
that stone to stone
and cold to cold it is
still the love that
he carried?

martyr and too foolish
as i see it
but what can he really do
to his lonely life?

except perhaps to give
meaning to pain and
keep it, as it is the
only meaning that is left
out of it.