To fall in love, 

gulp uncertainty
as if it were
pineapple juice,
the freshest ever
pineapple juice.

Even if you
have never liked 
pineapple juice.  
Even if you are 
allergic — to fall in love
is to fear deliciously,
to fall into
a deep wonder 
about what will happen next; 

to fall in love
is to become drunk
on questions.

To fall in love,

burn the roast,
oversalt the potatoes,
boil the green beans
to mush.  

Break 
the good china, 
and as you sit there
in the ruins of 
a traditional family feast,
having watched all your relations
storm out to seek a meal
elsewhere,
pick up one green bean,
stuff it in your mouth,
and marvel at how
one green bean
escaped the carnage to be
perfect, and enough — 
sustenance enough on its own;

to fall in love
is to swell with disbelief
at how easily
all your questions can be answered.