We intimates 
	fight because 
we want more 
	of each other 
and failing that, 
	as is always 
the case, we become 
	petulant children 
prone on the floor 
	arms and legs 
kicking, flailing away 
	--- I want, I want, 
I want…more, 
	so very much more 
of your love --
	a need never met, 
a thirst never 
	quenched,
a perpetual stare 
	into the dark, 
endlessly dry depths 
	of a wishing well.

*idea from a meditation by
Henri Nouwen