“We measure love,
not in beakers or jiggers or jars
but in miles and hours spent devouring “the” song.
It is without a reference table
to set the ruler against when in doubt;
It is without a clock
to tick the rhythm between “I’m sorry” and “I miss you”;
It is without the words,
to let you know you will always be tightened tight within a jar
on a shelf in my head
and not have it sound neurotic.
You are my center when I spin away, out of control, on videotape.”