Another semi-recent poem about love from Mr. Single himself

Bushwhack Attraction

You better watch it, you
young ungainly son of a gun.
That emu’s got the goods on you
and at least one eye too.

Now there’s not tremendous
coordination there but the bird’s
got drive and a scandalous bite—
what did you do to offend her?

Those feathers are ruffled good,
neck extended for inspection
and legs cocked for righteous
running, gunning for a chase.

The outback’s a wild place
they say—are you tuned
to its sacred energies?
This sweltering dust-dry heat
has turned many a man sideways
for love as locals know—
Mother Nature playing ancient games
as the sun sets over desert gold.

Do yourself a favor, brother:
run top-speed from a charging emu
if your heart’s not fit for adventure;
save your sweat and flesh
for less intriguing creatures—

or hop on top if you think you can,

catch the currents of her secret life.
She’ll let you ride easy
if she respects you, throw you off
then stomp if you’re not true.

In the catching itself
there’s something—
 

for loyalty in these violent times
requires a certain earning.