DesireAuthor(s): James TateSource: The Iowa Review, Vol. 24, No. 3 (Fall, 1994), p. 142Published by: University of IowaStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20153594 .

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Desire

Crayons could melt upon us for all I care.

I suppress the desire for anything?but my baby! Diamond doves, keep watch over us.

We're going to lie awake all night and she might call me "Lieutenant Sterling."

Only a thin wall of corrupt manners

stands between us and a delightful innocence.

Philosophical nights, we'll talk about pineapples:

He: "With miles of pineapples ready to be harvested

there is really little perfume unless

one happens to be bruised or injured."

She: "I can't believe you just said that.

What an unspeakable toad you are."

And that was the last time

I said the word pineapple,

though I find myself thinking it almost constantly.

She doesn't respect me nearly enough, she could never love me

in the way I deserve to be loved.

So I talk to myself, precisely in the way I will not tolerate,

which offends me to no end,

and I abhor beyond understanding,

which is at least part of the reason

I desire her still.

142

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