Rainer M. Rilke Steals This Poem and Makes It His Own

Love is two lovers

sleeping through each other’s snoring.

But love comes and goes

like the flame that heats my aging stove.

Wine and spirits profit

harpies scream

poets moan

strangers pass unlacing looks

to other strangers passing.

All because love is just heavy breathing

and twitching fingers.

But let us not make a scene.

Love is the chaser that settles the nerves,

and the invitation after.

Love comes and goes

like the full stomach of an Eskimo.

Artists make a killing

businessmen knot their ties

grease and oil find their way into hair

strangers pass unlacing looks

to other strangers passing.

All because love is just the invitation accepted,

and unsettled nerves.

But let us not make a scene.

Love is the growing warmth in your belly

that stays with you in your sleep.