Love At Twenty-Six
—a poem by Kara Brown

Love At Twenty-Six
Sorry—I’m completely oblivious
to random acts of kindness,
so forgive me for not noticing the door
you opened on the way to the play,
and don’t feel bad when the only ring
I’ll ever want from you is the one your
coffee cup leaves on my table;
and when I reject objectivity for
laughter and irony, don’t worry,
I still love you, but again,
forgive me for hating it
when you say you love me.

Kara Brown has a master's degree in literature and film from Newcastle University, which she uses to answer trivia questions. She is an English nerd and film buff who thinks music is what makes life worth living--though booze and cigarettes help. Kara lives a transitory existence in Burlington, Vermont--at least for the moment.