I have known several outstanding individuals who were capable of every kindness – and sustainably so, I might add – but who, when faced with reciprocity and the prospect of commitment, moved resolutely to parry the perceived threat. Why is love such a scary thing for these otherwise-brave people?

Unable to answer the question, I wrote the illustrative poem Capable of Loving instead, in which I describe the poignant case of a young lady suffering from acute sarmassophobia.

Now and then, I am asked to reveal the identity of the girl in this story. The question is usually phrased in clever ways ranging from Is the lady in the story someone I know? to Am I the lady in the story? or even Is that how you think of me, you [bleep]ing bastard?. Relax. The character is synthetic and the aim of the poem is to expose a certain attitude and concomitant behavioral pattern, not to indict someone. For all you know, the poem might as well be about me.