I was a rock in the zoo

This is an old love poem from autumn 2006 recorded in my Volume #6 book (an otherwise untitled journal that features a blurry abstract oil painting on the cover.)

I was a rock in the zoo
carefully placed in the lions' cage
so I could count the hours
of endless boredom
between feedings.
They had me convinced
that there was nothing more to life
than pacing and waiting
for grain fed red meat,
that the jungle nature of love
was an unnecessary primal stirring.
Then one day you unlocked the cage
and lifted me out into the sunlight;
you kissed me gently breaking the spell
turning me into the would-be prince
you know today.
But then you left me
alone in a different world
where my ice-cold logic does not apply,
you gave me the keys
but did not show me the way.
Inside the lions did not miss me,
one less rock to piss on,
yet I missed the comfort of their complacency
and their easy acceptance
of nothingness.
Here there is distant hope
but little to fill the long hours
of the meantime—
instead I dream of what was
like captive lions who in their sleep
chase gazelles across the savannah.