Give me a man
who understands this:
He agrees to take me camping
only to wake just before the dawn
and find me absent from our camper,
but not batting an eye as he discovers me
face down in the brittle leaves and musty soil.
He walks silently back to the campsite unconcerned.
When I write about it, I want to show my readers
what it feels like, smells like, tastes like to fall
face down in the leaves and dirt.

Give me a man who understands this -
or give me no man at all.