Someone will love you many times. 

Many times over and over a red flame. 

Over a million dollars and someone will love you a million dollars. 

You will be loved from all over and from pockets and sandwiches 

and someone will stick her hand through a plate glass window to love you 

and from between two sheets. 

Over and over and many times love will come at you 

from a rooftop with billowy sheets and Miley Cyrus will love you 

and so will Spiro Agnew. Many times 

the earth will love your stomach, 

for many times and for the thousands of times you have answered the door 

and no one was there. 

For the many times you were down on your knees between the tile and the toilet. 

Someone will take your hair and hold it behind your head 

many many times over and over. 

Someone will walk with you down the summer path, 

all those pink and purple wildflowers getting wild for you, 

getting wild for your love and for the stench of your absence.  

You will send it back time and time again—

when the buildings shake, when the show is over,

when the shadows creep tall into your tall brain and mess it up. 

It is a truth that can’t be untruthed—

that someone will love you many times no matter how tired they are,

the way a blade of grass takes itself not too seriously 

and grinds out other blades of grass. Look at them out there, 

all stupid and green

in the backyard, 

count them all. I bet you can’t. 

That’s how many times you will be loved, count them all,

I bet you can’t.

By someone who couldn’t be more serious about love. 

And is.