I want to meet you, new love of mine
away from all the old places you found me with rimmed glasses and old notebooks
I want to meet you, love, anew
in places where you won't normally find me
in the library, the quiet section
where I sit to read of other people fall in love
around the bend in the road
where all the young boys fall, where all the men avoid walking
in a loud bar, where the lighting is florescent
and I am not wearing bright colors
on a dance floor where my feet know the beat
and your eyes dart to where I step
in a wheat field now winter is clearing
and spring enters into effect with its wild rye
in an office by the copy machine
where I make duplicates of the same thought I made earlier that morning
in a church, where I feverishly look
for the different manifestations of God around me
in the high tides of the ocean, in the low murmur of the trees
I want to meet you, new love, wherever you find me.