She Understands Eros

Dan Cavallari

She says Greek and Latin words
I don't know the meaning of.
       She says Eros.
       I drop my pencil.
       She says Agape.
       I clear my throat
       And nod with the assurance of
The knowledge I have yet to attain.

I run home to find a dictionary.
She sees right through me.

I return with
       Pathos and
       Its cousin Ethos.

She has written a novel in

I juxtapose and relate with
      Synechdoche. She has reached
      The Czech consulate and
      Effectively bartered for the
Freedom of political prisoners.

I read Marx and speak
      Of social revolution with
      No understanding of the term.
She sits with
      A Buddhist monk outside
Bangkok and transcends
      Society altogether.

I speak candidly and she
      Understands every word, writes
      It all down more eloquently
      Than I have said it. Or thought it.
My understanding of her is
      Convoluted at best, requires
      A dictionary, a soft chair
      And two hours to myself.

But then she sleeps.
      And her eyes see nothing.
      Her lips do not part to speak.
      Her hands save no one.
      Her face eases and her
      Smile retires for the night.

And for just a quick moment,
      I get it. I get her.

She does all these things
      For me. She understands and
      Writes and speaks and saves and
           --For me.