FREE LOVE

If you could find it in you, mon amour,
you'd fall in heady ecstasy for me,
and I would make you my own Pompadour,
as royal as King Louis' and as free.
I'd take my lute and be your troubadour;
if you were Ming, I'd walk ten thousand li
for you, unbind your feet and let them grow
to mountains of desire; I'd melt your snow.

And should our love expire we would divorce,
agree on rights of access, fairly share
our property two ways, halt intercourse
for the duration, wind up our affair,
emancipate love à la Wilberforce,
avoiding all the pitfalls of despair.
For these zigzags we'll neither weep nor shout:
you either are in love or else you're out.